tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72266329697192093112024-03-08T08:51:17.094-08:00Episcopal AgnosticKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-39537576406636387932011-12-09T11:46:00.000-08:002011-12-09T11:46:46.230-08:00Paradox of Morality<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Figuring out morality from a Christian perspective sometimes feels like an exercise in paradox. Not so much how to be good; that's fairly straightforward in theory, if not always in practice – love God and your neighbor; do justice, love mercy, walk humbly with your God; etc. Of course it can be a challenge to figure out what it means to love your neighbor in particular circumstances, let alone when you have more than one neighbor and their needs seem to be in conflict. But that's not what I'm concerned with here. Instead I'm concerned with why we try.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I do think we should try, but I find that I can run myself in circles trying to explain why. I don't think it's about avoiding punishment, trying not to go to hell, that sort of thing. That's commonly given as an explanation for Christian morality, and often levied as criticism of the Church – that it tries to manipulate people's behavior by threatening them with eternal punishment. But I don't think that's the case. I think that salvation, defined as reconciliation with God and promise of being part of the new creation, has already been accomplished for everyone through Jesus, and the only way to lose it is to refuse it constantly forever and ever.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So I don't think moral behavior is about trying to avoid divine punishment at all. Some of it might be about avoiding punishment in the here and now, by legal enforcement or social sanctions, but that only scratches the surface of the full depth of a well-lived life. I've been reading a good bit of N.T. Wright's work lately, and I find meaning in his presentation of the idea that we're called to build for God's kingdom, even as we live in the old creation. I especially like the idea that no good work will be wasted, all goodness begun here will be affirmed and find its full meaning in the new creation. And I also like his explanation that yes, we'll be rewarded for our good works, but that the reward will consist of something more like satisfaction and increased ability to perform and enjoy the work of the new creation – more like the reward of practicing a skill than of earning a wage. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The difficulty I have with that description is that it doesn't seem to do a lot for discipline, at least to me. It's wonderful to think that doing good is making a permanent contribution to God's kingdom, as well as helping out in the here and now. But that alone doesn't make it particularly clear why I should try to be more good than I feel like being at any given time. Why I should be attentive to others even when I'm tired, why I should work to keep and open mind and heart about whether the way I live is in accordance with God's will, why I should fight the temptation to brag or gossip or manipulate – especially if I can get away with it. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Yet I do think that I should do all of the above, and that when I don't, that's a failing I should repent of and ask God for strength to overcome. And even though I fail quite often, I think it's really important that I keep trying. But not because I think I'll go to hell if I don't, or that I'll be punished in any other way (natural consequences aside). I sometimes laugh at my struggles of trying to figure out if this or that behavior is okay or not, given these or those circumstances – and I laugh because part of my mind asks “according to who?” I find myself really truly not thinking of it in terms of avoiding punishment but still really truly being very concerned with what God wants – even though there's a large sense in which I don't think it'll affect my happiness at all.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And of course that's not quite true – if I didn't think it would affect my happiness somehow, I imagine I wouldn't care. Some sense of what we call happiness I think is just an internal motivation scale. I guess what I mean is that I don't think that happiness will be externally given to or taken from me based on my actions (again, natural consequences aside). The reason it still matters very much what I do and how I behave, even though I won't be punished for my failings, is that it's not about me. It's about God and God's kingdom and living out God's goodness. Serving God is in fact an end in itself – not serving God in order to be saved, to avoid going to hell, to have high standing in the new creation – but because God is God and is our very reason for existing and our only true life and fulfillment. </div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-22222899045066788952011-12-01T08:10:00.000-08:002011-12-01T08:10:11.183-08:00Liturgy<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This past Sunday I went to church with a friend. It was a mainline Protestant church, and I learned two things from the experience: that liturgy is very important to me, and that I have to be careful not to mistake the way I like to do things for the way things must be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> The church was overall very nice. People were friendly and welcoming, the music was lovely, we sang all the verses of the hymns, and the pastor seemed to be a genuinely caring person. We had a call to worship, sang a hymn, had an Old Testament and a Gospel reading, listened to a sermon, shared prayers, said the Lord's Prayer; heard an anthem during the offertory, sang the Doxology and another hymn, and had a benediction. It reminded me a lot of the church services I had as a kid growing up in the Presbyterian church. It was a very nice service undoubtedly focused on worshiping God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> And yet there was so much that I missed: crossing myself at various points in worship; sitting, standing, and kneeling at different times; blessing God's kingdom now and forever; praying the various collects; responding “Thanks be to God” at the readings; singing a Psalm; hearing an Epistle reading; singing a gradual hymn; standing for the Gospel reading; crossing my mind, lips, and heart for the Gospel reading; following the structure of the Prayers of the People; being blessed in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And, of course, the Eucharist (which the church I visited does have, just not every week). I missed the prayer of confession and the peace, the Great Thanksgiving, the Sanctus, proclaiming the mystery of faith, and of course actually receiving Communion and sharing the common cup. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> I think there are three parts to my feeling of unrest from that worship service and my sense that things were missing. The first is the sense of doing something. All the “Episcopal aerobics” and responses and motions help me to focus on what's going on and feel like an active participant. There's a reason why liturgy is “the work of the people.” For me, that active role is what makes me feel like I'm worshiping.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> The second reason has to do with a combination of tradition and theology. Not that the theology is actually hugely different. I've talked theology a lot with the friend whose church I visited, and we're largely on the same page. It was more a matter of emphasis during the worship. Starting the service by blessing the Triune God and proclaiming His kingdom seems to me to orient worship on the very essence of Christianity. Having the blessing in the name of the Trinity again affirms that central faith in who God is. Hearing an Old Testament, Psalm, Epistle, and Gospel reading according to a lectionary assures that you'll hear just about all the Bible over several years (and I think the church I visited does use a lectionary, though maybe not as strictly as mine does, and with only two readings, at least this past Sunday). And the language of the prayer book both ties in to all that theology and also in its beauty points to the wonder and mystery and majesty of God. Of course there's also something to be said for the language of worship to be understandable, not so far removed from the everyday language of the people as to lose meaning. Services in Latin are not for me. And I even prefer Rite II to Rite I. But for me the structure of the prayer book liturgy provides a richness of meaning, that these same words are used over and over and sort of gather the meaning of common worship spanning time and place.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> Finally, I find that liturgical worship, and the Eucharist in particular, gives me a sense of community with the people I'm worshiping with. The peace allows me a chance to greet everyone around me, and I find it especially meaningful to do so by sharing Christ's peace. Getting up for Communion and participating in all the little bits of cooperation that make it happen smoothly binds us together, not all at once, but by doing so Sunday after Sunday, year in and year out. And of course the actual sharing of Christ's Body and Blood, in whatever mysterious way that happens – being “made one with God's people in heaven and on earth.” And of course this is true for the church I visited as well; we are all one Body in Christ, my church and that church and all other churches. The difference, I think, is one of emphasis. Even the sitting and standing and kneeling and crossing and responding is part of the sense of community for me, in that we're all doing this liturgical work together.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> So I have good reasons to love liturgy and to love my church, but it's important that I don't let those get in the way of loving God and loving my neighbor. And I have the sense that if I'm not careful and intentional in my thinking, I could slide down that path. It's easy for me to forget that some of the things I consider to be important traditions of the Episcopal church, like celebrating the Eucharist every Sunday, are actually only slightly older than I am. I know I'm at risk for being one of the grumblers whenever the prayer book next gets revised. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> But I need to keep in mind that the way I like to worship isn't the only way to worship. Liturgy works very well for me, and there's certainly nothing wrong with it, but God wants justice and mercy more than particular kinds of prayers, and worship without love is just noise, no matter how traditional it may be. It's an odd sort of tension, because I really do believe that liturgical worship helps me connect to God like nothing else does, and that it really is important and worthwhile for that reason, and the conversations and discernments we have within the church about how to worship aren't just idle chatter about ornamentation. And yet, I'm also sure that God is also well-pleased with my friend's church and with churches that use worship styles that I find almost painful (TV screens and praise bands come to mind). Even if it's not the way I worship, it still has value if it brings people closer to God and to one another, so it's important for me to keep an open heart and resist my urge to judge.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> And some of that comes easily. I can say wholeheartedly that a powerpoint-and-praise-band church with true community and commitment is better than a liturgical church where no one is challenged or changed. The trouble is that I want to continue by saying that a liturgical church with love and justice and mercy is best of all, when really what it is is that's best for me. I won't say that I don't think God cares about our worship – I think He cares very much. But I think there are many different varieties of faithful expression depending on a community's history and circumstances, so that my natural sense of liturgy as being “the right way” is unfounded. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> God of faithfulness and abundance, help me to balance my love of a particular community and tradition with a radical welcome for all Your people in their diversity of experiences and expressions, that together we may reflect your unending goodness in all its variety. Through our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-39527615275628969942011-11-16T13:21:00.001-08:002011-11-16T13:21:52.093-08:00Excitement and Calm<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">A few weeks ago I read N.T. Wright's book “Surprised by Hope.” It was a really wonderful book about the Christian view on life after death and what that means to us in the here and now. The book was full of new insights for me even though the basic premise was exactly what I'd been taught at my church from the beginning. While I was reading it, and for several days after, I felt really excited about the kingdom of God. I prayed more often, and I had a really strong desire to do something to build up God's kingdom right now. But as is usual for me, this excitement was in some ways short-lived. I still had a thesis to finish revising, I still had my job hunt, my Christmas baking, my connections to family and friends (yes, and church) to maintain, plans to carry out, etc. I simply didn't, and maybe couldn't, maintain the level of excitement I'd felt before. But I think I learned a few things from it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One is that good theological reading is very helpful to my spirituality. I read during most meals, and reading about God means I'm thinking about God and more likely to pray and to be more conscious about loving my neighbor and working for God's kingdom and giving thanks and caring for creation. Sunday worship and adult formation and youth leadership have this effect also, but books have the advantage of being right there and requiring no additional planning once they're present. There is, of course, the risk of getting too much into reading and thinking to the exclusion of serving and doing, but I found that the reading tended to support a sense of mission for me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The second thing is that prayer is important, and I ought to try to be better at it. There's so much in the world that I can't directly change, where prayer is about the only thing I can do, so it seems like I ought to at least do that. But even more important is simply being in relationship with God – I think that's what Paul really meant by “pray without ceasing.” I'm still working out how to do that when I'm involved in a task that requires my full concentration, but I did have a few moments where it seemed like I was both working on my thesis and communing with God. I think a lot of it is to keep turning my attention back to God whenever I remember / He reminds me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The last, and maybe biggest, thing is that having my level of excitement drop isn't the end of the world. It's great to be inspired and to learn new things and to have hope renewed, but just like in a romantic relationship, one can't be super-excited all the time. Eventually you need some of that energy for sticking with the day-to-day of working and playing and learning and loving. God isn't less present just because my neurons are firing at a slower rate or I'm not as flooded with dopamine. And good work still gets done and life still has joy within its routines. There seems to be an oscillation between intense excitement and calm work. Much like the liturgical calendar – the white seasons of Easter and Christmas compared to the green seasons after Pentecost and Epiphany. Add in the purple seasons of Lent and Advent for humble discernment...maybe the church knows a thing or two ;-) It's true that the excitement of new ideas (or joyful music, or enthusiastic youth) gives me a boost in my practice of being aware of God's presence, but it's also true that the effort of trying to practice my faith when the excitement has faded has value of its own.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-11016942136403199712011-10-13T13:53:00.000-07:002011-10-13T13:53:07.641-07:00Dealing With Disagreement<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but a lot of my friends have a really negative impression of Christianity. And in some ways, I can't blame them. A lot of people have their main exposure to the church as an institution that insists on unthinking obedience, subjugates women, advocates destroying the environment, tries to dictate which consenting adults can have sex, manipulates people into giving them money, supports unrestrained capitalism, and expresses glee at the thought of everyone who's not in their group being tortured forever. I would want nothing to do with such an organization either. And of course I don't think the church is really mostly like that, though I am aware that those voices are loud. And I think the thing to do in response is be loud and not obnoxious – to do our best to live the Gospel and be open about our faith and to take opportunities to show what we think the church is about without getting in people's face about it and just annoying them. That's not what I want to talk about right now.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Instead, I'm trying to figure out what I as a Christian am supposed to do with other Christians who seem to be opposed to everything I think the Gospel is about. My immediate impulses are pretty straightforward: I want to disown them, to deny that they are Christians at all, and to try to take back the name for what I believe in. But I'm pretty sure I can't do that. The whole Body of Christ idea seems to eliminate that option. The hand can't say to the ear “I have no need of you!” (Or whatever body parts are in the actual verse; I didn't feel like looking it up). This is particularly infuriating when it seems like others are doing exactly that to marginalized groups. It drives me up the wall that there are members of the church who want to limit the participation of LGBT people or who think it's okay to refuse to minister to illegal immigrants, but I'm not allowed to respond by pushing back in the same way.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Which makes it sometimes unclear how one should respond, because even though it's not okay to divide the Body of Christ, it's also not okay to go along with injustice in order to avoid making waves. So speaking out is necessary. And sometimes there is mutual respect along with the disagreement. There are people who are pro-life who don't advocate bombing abortion facilities or lying to pregnant women and instead put their energy and resources into truly helping parents whose lives are complicated by an unplanned pregnancy. There are people who truly struggle with what God's will is for LGBT people, who have gay friends and who just can't claim that homosexual behavior is okay while remaining true to their conscience but are deeply pained by this. I don't agree with these people, but I respect them and I trust them to be people of goodwill. They're not the ones I'm worried about.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm worried about the ones who do bomb abortion clinics, risking the killing of doctors and staff (and mothers and fetuses). I'm worried about the ones who celebrate when gay youth are bullied or commit suicide in despair. I'm worried about the ones who claim that “a free thinker is Satan's slave” and help to drive my friends further away from what I still see as the deepest connection to the source of all life and joy. So I don't think it works to just say that some people think differently and that's fine, not when that leads to real harm to real people. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So somehow, I've got to stand up for what I believe the Gospel is about, without denying the humanity of those I believe to be seriously misguided. I don't think that means I can't oppose them in the temporal sphere. I think it's justifiable to say, (even if only in my head), “I recognize you as a precious child of God. I will take Communion with you. I will pray for you. If you are in need, I will try to help you. But I also believe that your attitude towards (LGBT people/illegal immigrants/the environment/etc) is wrong, and my conscience requires me to oppose you in that area. I'm willing to share my beliefs and listen to yours, and I hope that we can eventually be reconciled.”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sounds all nice and rational, but hard as heck to do, even just inside my own head! Part of the trouble is that I often don't want to be calm – I want to be angry, and I feel like I should be angry because of what I see happening. And I don't think that anger is always wrong. Jesus certainly seemed angry when he cleansed the Temple and overturned the tables of the moneychangers. Maybe sometimes anger is useful to shake up people who need to be shaken up in order to see the truth of a situation. On the other hand, acting in anger also seems to run more risk of hurting people, and Jesus had a whole lot more wisdom that I have – I don't know that I can trust myself to choose appropriately when to use anger as a tool.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So instead it's a matter of walking the tightrope – trying to align myself with justice and with what I understand the Gospel to be, including opposing other people if necessary, but resisting the tempatation to dehumanize (or dechristianize?) them – in the words of C.S. Lewis trying “not to hate, not to despise, above all not to enjoy hating and despising.” Lord, have mercy.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-34260901519950437132011-10-12T11:43:00.000-07:002011-10-12T11:43:23.319-07:00Blessings<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This past Sunday was St. Francis Day, and my church, like many others, celebrating by holding a blessing of the animals. My cats were blessed when they were kittens, and they don't like being among the crowd of people and (especially!) dogs, so I don't take them anymore. Instead, I followed the lead of a former deacon of the church by bringing in an animal from nature: they brought an almond bug; I brought a tree frog.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I like to think of bringing those wild animals in to be blessed, and then releasing them into the wild to carry their blessings to the rest of nature. A friend of mine liked the idea, but also commented that they'd always thought of nature as having its own connection to God, so that such blessings wouldn't be necessary. I don't disagree with the idea that the plants and animals have their own connections to God, but the comment got me wondering about what it is we're really doing when we bless something or someone.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The first thing I think needs to be clear is that blessing isn't the same as consecrating. To consecrate something is to set it aside for sacred use, like the bread and wine at communion, or the water for baptism, or the sanctuary of a church. Anything that's consecrated has to be used for sacred purposes or disposed of reverently (i.e. by eating the bread, drinking the wine/water or pouring it onto the ground, or de-consecrating it if it's a church building that will no longer be used for worship). But we bless stuff all the time that isn't for sacred use. Like many members of my church, I had my house blessed shortly after my husband and I moved in. My cats have been blessed, we bless the food when we say grace, and the priest pronounces a blessing on the congregation at the end of the worship service. None of these make the people, places, or things sacred in the way that consecration does. (So what about consecrating a bishop then? Surely they're only being consecrated in their role as a member of the clergy, not in their entire life – everyone has to deal with the practical as well as the sacred.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The other thing is that blessing isn't magical. I don't think whether or not your dinner has been blessed is going to affect its nutritional properties. The fact that my house has been blessed doesn't mean it can't burn down, and the blessing at the end of Sunday worship doesn't keep bad stuff from happening to everyone all week. But it is meaningful. Any future homes and pets will also be blessed, and I would miss the blessing on Sunday if we didn't have it as part of the liturgy. (I do, however, tend to be sadly remiss about blessing food. Maybe something to take on during Lent...) </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So why is it meaningful? I find myself drawn to the language used to describe the sacraments – the “outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” Blessing something isn't a sacrament, but it still has a sort of special significance. In general, it wouldn't be as meaningful for someone to just say, “I hope your cat has a long and happy life,” or even “I hope God gives your cat a long and happy life,” though I can imagine a kind of person who could use just those words and still be pronouncing a blessing. And maybe that can give some hint about where the meaning comes from. This person I'm imagining is someone who would be so connected to God that it would be evident even when they're just doing normal stuff, so that if they're wishing your cat well, of course God is brought into it, because God is brought into everything they do. And different people I've met or known have been like that at different times. But most of us need more intentionality to connect to God in that way, and the specific words and gestures help form that intention. I guess the hope is that we'll all eventually reach a point where that's not needed, where being deeply connected to God is the norm - “the earth as full of the knowledge of the Lord as the seas are full of water” - but I'm a long way from that point, so I need my rites and liturgy and beautiful language.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So blessing seems to have something to do with intentionally recognizing a connection between God and that which is being blessed. Of course the connection exists no matter what, because God is God and is present in all His creation. So that means it doesn't create anything that isn't already there, except within our minds. (Which does not make it real or unimportant – so much of what we do is in our minds!) But it does make me think that if someone was interacting with something that had been blessed, but didn't know it had been blessed, that the blessing wouldn't matter to that person's experience. (Though I will accept that praying for someone can be beneficial to them even if they don't know they're being prayed for, so I'm not sure about this). My thought is that blessing something or being present when it is blessed reminds us that it's part of God's creation, that it's meant to be used/treated in accordance with God's will, and that it's a good gift from God for which joy and gratitude are appropriate responses. And we use the language and gestures of blessing instead of just saying “Hey, remember that this is God's” because in many cases the beauty and specialness speak to us in a way beyond just the words and seem to allow the reality of God's care to penetrate more deeply into our hearts. (That said, there are times, I think, when informal language is appropriate: the informal and occasionally somewhat humorous mealtime prayers among friends and family cement our bonds in other ways that are equally part of our life with God). After the blessing itself is over to remember it or to be told that something is blessed allows us to reconnect with that reality that both this particular thing and all the world belong to God, to His glory and our joy.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-9017465681147747732011-09-25T06:12:00.001-07:002011-09-25T06:12:54.233-07:00Painting<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Yesterday I worked with some of the youth of my church to paint their classroom. Our youth program is really great, and one of the great things is that we let each cohort of youth decide how they want to paint their room. The idea is that this allows them to make the space theirs, to have a place that they want to come to because they see themselves in it. This also means that the room now has two black walls with multicolored splatter paint and two lime green walls with handprints and names. It's pretty awesome. I was thrilled at the amount of enthusiasm and participation we had and at the way the kids are already bonding through “war paint” on faces, paint in hair, and paint coating arms up to the elbow. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But the truth was, I was pretty nervous when I left the house yesterday morning. Nervous about not having ladders, nervous about whether the kids would get along, nervous about whether the parents would be satisfied with our supervision and scheduling and everything, nervous about a nagging anxiety in the back of my mind that turned out to be the fact that oh yeah, I don't have a key and the church is locked on Saturday morning. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I've written about this before, but what I've finally learned to do, though I still have to re-derive it every time, is turn my nervousness over to God – tell God flat-out that I want to do a good job but I think I might be in over my head, and I'm going to need Him to take what I have and make it enough. It doesn't make the nervousness completely go away, but it helps. The last time I wrote about this, I then spent most of the day sort of checking in with God every now and then. This time I talked to God and then dove in and was busy all day. I didn't think about God again until we said grace at lunchtime. But He was there: in the graciousness of the parishioner who unlocked the church for us, in the amazing leadership skill of my co-leader, in the joy and enthusiasm and efficiency of the kids, in the effectiveness of the paint remover fluid on the floors and walls, and in the excitement of the youth and appreciation of the parents as they showed off their work. It was a good day.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-41226205470179662662011-09-22T12:20:00.001-07:002011-09-22T12:20:35.780-07:00Love Wins<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> I recently read “Love Wins” by Rob Bell. I thought it was pretty good and not really all that heretical. (Though I still don't know if the person who said it was heretical was being serious or not.) The basic idea of the book is the question of heaven and hell and of how they inform and are informed by our ideas about God. I'm going to explore some of the points he brought up, in whatever order I feel like.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The biggest idea is that ultimately, we get what we want. God's forgiveness is such that nothing we've done in our past needs to keep us from entering into joy. If we want to live into God's kingdom, He's not going to stop us (and I would argue quite the opposite). Likewise, if we want to be cruel and prideful and separate from God, He will allow us to make that choice. At least sort of, and this is one of the places where it gets complicated, because the claims are made both that God will let you go off your own way if you want to and that God will try every trick, so to speak, to get you to repent and return to Him. And I believe that both of these are true, and I also see them as possibly in conflict. How is God supposed to keep trying to get you to come back if He's also leaving you alone when you want left alone? The best I can figure is that God is aware of and responds to all our mixed desires, so maybe at the same time, a person's conscious thoughts can be saying “leave me alone” while the silent cry of their heart is “please rescue me,” and surely God is able to know about both of those and to act o that information. This is why I lean very strongly towards universalism. I have trouble imagining that anyone really truly wants to be alone in the dark.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At the same time, I do think that saying we get what we want might be an oversimplification. If what I want is specifically to dominate and exploit other people, I'm not ultimately going to be allowed to do that. I'm perfectly free to be the kind of person that would dominate and exploit other people, given the chance, but in the end, I think the chance to do that kind of thing won't be available. Bell sort of got at that idea too, with a description of how someone like that might be allowed into heaven but not allowed to do any of the cruel things they might want to do, so for them it would be a place of frustration and anger, even though it would be only their own twisted desires making it so (and presumably, help in overcoming those desires would be available through God's grace). That goes along with a sort of “natural consequences” idea I've heard from a friend. We've talked several times about the parable of the sheep and the goats, and they see it as maybe not so much Jesus saying “You go here; you go there,” but more of people sorting themselves out by the kind of people they've become through the way they've chosen to live; that the sheep-y place would seem best to the sheep-y people and the goat-y place would seem best to the goat-y people. And that makes some amount of sense to me, though it still seems to carry a sense of finality I'm not sure about; can a goat notice that this isn't such a great place and try to change things? Does God still hang out in goat-town to show the way home?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Part of my concern is that if it's up to me to make sure I'm not damned, I figure I'm pretty screwed. I don't think I'm a horrible person, but I don't trust myself to make the right choices even when I try to, let alone the times when I just don't try. If my ultimate fate depends on my being good enough, clever enough, compassionate enough, honest enough, or selfless enough, I'm in trouble. Any hope I have comes from believing that God will be there to catch me. This puts me in a strange position of believing both that our decisions don't determine our ultimate fate and that our decisions matter enormously, both to us and to the world. The sense I have is that, even though I think I'll ultimately be saved, I also expect that I'll be called to account for my choices, and I am definitely apprehensive about that. I've made enough mistakes that I don't think it'll be pleasant, but it's more like a dread of having a long walk in freezing rain to get home than of being thrown into a lake of fire. You don't enjoy it while it's going on, and when the wind chills you to the bone you might regret not wearing a warmer jacket, but you know it will end and you just have to endure.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-28281721596067467872011-09-21T10:26:00.000-07:002011-09-21T10:26:09.542-07:00Ownership<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Given the political fights going on right now, it's probably not too surprising that I've been thinking a lot about economics lately. There are debates about whether socialism is more Christian than capitalism, over who should pay how much in taxes and who should get how much in government services, over whether people should have to give up money they've earned to support the common good. I have opinions on all of that, but in trying to articulate where I stand, I've wound up going back to a much more basic problem: our entire concept of ownership is on shaky ground.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For concrete marketplace transactions, the idea of ownership seems pretty simple. You own the clothes you're wearing because you exchanged money for them, or because someone else did so on your behalf, or else someone who had what society understands to be a legitimate claim on them transferred that claim to you, freely or in exchange for a different claim. (This is already more complicated than I anticipated). The difficulty as I see it, comes when we look a bit deeper than that. Anything tangible that you own comes from the earth, whether as nonliving materials, living organisms, or land itself. Obviously, none of us made the earth or have the capacity to do so. So where do the grounds for claiming ownership of anything come from? Of course this thinking isn't new to me – there have been societies where the concept of land ownership didn't exist, but I still want to explore it in more detail. Even leaving land aside, what grounds can someone have for saying that they own natural resources? All I can see is the claim of having gotten there first, and that doesn't seem like much of a claim, especially when we're talking about claiming more than a person can use at one moment.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For example, let's imagine that there are only two people plopped down into a newly created world. Their territory is what they can explore on foot. Suppose one of them comes across some berry bushes in his wanderings, bushes that neither of the people knew about before. Would it be fair for him to claim that all the berries belong to him since he found them first? It seems to me that the other person could argue that he has just as much right to the berries and that they belong equally to both of them because neither of them made anything here – they're both just finding stuff and making use of it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Adding more people doesn't seem to change the situation. If there are eight people instead of just two, it still seems like the berries belong equally to everyone. And there's no reason it seems that it would be different with a nonliving resource like oil. Actually, I take that back – it is different because then you have the question of mining and its effects. Maybe half the people in our society of eight want the oil – and are prepared to share it eight ways – and are interested in drilling a well to get it. But the other half find more value in the landscape as it is and don't want the changes that drilling for oil would bring to it, and are prepared to forgo the oil – but they only get the benefit of forgoing it – that is, the unchanged environment – if everyone does so. Is it right for some people to prevent others from gaining access to a resource because they don't want to change the landscape? On the other hand, is it right for some people to force change in the landscape to get a resource that not everyone wants a share in? I have my own leanings, but it seems to me that there's no clear logical answer here. In either case, some people get what they want from a system they didn't make, and some don't, and there's no way to do both.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So where does God come into this? Not to steal is one of the Ten Commandments, so that indicates some sense of ownership as reasonable – or at least just as necessary to the ancient Hebrews as it is to us. But at the same time, the Old Testament also talks about forgiving debts every 50 years and returning land to its original owners. This seems to indicate a desire not to let inequality grow too much; wealth can't be amassed indefinitely, and there's a limit to how much later generations will suffer for their ancestor's bad luck or poor decisions. There's also talk of being compassionate with those who are in your debt – not keeping their only cloak as collateral during the night when they need it. It seems to indicate that ownership is fine as a practical construct, a way of deciding who gets to make the final decision in case of conflict, but also seems to show that it's not to be taken too far. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In the Gospels, of course, but also in the prophets and elsewhere in the Old Testament, there's talk about caring for the poor and making sure everyone's needs are met, doing justice for the widow and the orphan. If widows and orphans at that time were people with no legal standing, who had to rely on common decency to get by, I wonder who are today's “widows and orphans.” People who come, perhaps illegally, to do hard seasonal work in the fields? People whose family structures don't fit into our system of social convention, so they have no help or sympathy if those they've joined their lives with fall on hard times? People who earn too much to qualify for food stamps but not enough to afford more education to change their position? </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Ownership in some sense means power – power to control the fate of that which you own, and power to exchange that control for other forms of control. But try as I might, I can't find grounds for one person having more control that another, nor can I imagine how to create a system that can't be abused to one's own advantage. The only thing for it is to love our neighbors.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-54224280289029717062011-08-30T12:33:00.001-07:002011-08-30T12:33:45.802-07:00Grand Adventure?<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">My natural inclination is to see life as a grand adventure. This doesn't mean I don't have responsibilities. Of course I do. If I had kids, I'd have even more responsibilities, but as it is, I still think I have a responsibility to seek God's will for me, to love my neighbor, and to care for God's creation. So it's not an adventure in the sense that it doesn't matter what I do. It's an adventure in that life is filled with uncertainty and that's okay.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When I was a kid, I thought that soon after adulthood I'd have it all figured out, that I'd get a job and stay in the same career forever, that I'd settle down somewhere and have the same group of friends and acquaintances forever more, and that I would know how to handle everything that came my way. My imaginings were fairly devoid of emotion, and in fact I wondered how adulthood would manage to avoid being boring. Since then, I've changed careers twice and have yet to really get established in one (though I'm hoping third career is the charm!) and my life has been full of fascinating people drifting in and out depending on where their own paths take them. I certainly don't know how to handle everything, and I've found myself in situations I never imagined as a child – but I'm starting to feel that with God's help, I can handle things.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I sometimes find myself wondering if there's a fine line between faith and fatalism and which side of that line I might be on. I've been on anti-anxiety meds for a while, and I'm a really different (and dysfunctional) person when I'm off of them, but in the seven or so years I've been on them, and especially in the past three or so, and most strongly in the past year, I've developed an odd sense of detachment. It doesn't necessarily kick in when I'm in the thick of a situation, but when I'm thinking about my future, I feel what might seem like an alarming lack of anxiety. I'm still job-hunting, I don't know what my prospects are like, and I don't know what I'll wind up doing. I don't know which people will stay in my life over the years, I don't know if I'll remain healthy, I don't know what climate change is going to do to the planet.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm not indifferent to those things. I hope that we won't see the worst global warming scenarios come true. I certainly would rather be healthy than not, and I hope to keep my close friends. I would prefer to end up in work that's interesting and contributes to society and allows for a comfortable work-life balance. But there are two factors that keep me from worrying a lot: one is that I can't control most of these things. I can do my part, but life is going to do what it's going to do. For any situation, I think it's a personal choice how much to seek to control and mitigate and how much to just let things happen and hope for the best. Somewhat oddly, the second factor is that there's a lot I can control. I can't control exactly what happens to me, but if I'm not happy, I can change something. I don't have to stay in a job I hate; I can look for another job or move into a smaller place and scale back financially. If I experience a major setback, I can still stay connected to my friends and the church and find much that's fulfilling in life. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It's at this point where I start to worry about being callous or unsympathetic or insensitive. One reason is that I'm very fortunate. I have enough material and psychological and social resources to cushion the blows of anything really hard that happens to me. Not everyone has that, and it's a heck of a lot easier to say you're confident that things will turn out okay when you're not living on the edge. As a society, I think we need to be working on pulling people back from that edge. It's not right that there are people stuck in jobs that make them miserable because they're desperate to feed their kids or keep their health insurance. And I think it's a fallacy to say that someone just has to do the miserable jobs. We can develop technology to improve them, we can adjust working conditions and benefits so that they're not miserable but are actually decent jobs, we can insist that all workers be treated as human beings and not just as economic resources. God didn't intend for anyone to be exploited for the benefit of those with more power.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I can also come across as generally out of touch here because it still might sound like I don't care what happens in my life. I care very much. I have a lot of emotions. And it's more likely than not that I'll face some very painful things over the course of my life just because that seems to be the nature of life. I've been lucky so far. But I do maintain that being joyful and confident now isn't going to make bad things happen. There's a part of my mind that seems to think I owe it to the seriousness of life's problems to not be too relaxed, to be waiting for the other shoe to drop, and that not doing so means being in denial or being insensitive or tempting fate. But I don't think God actually looks around and says “Oh, that person doesn't have enough anxiety; better do something to them!” And I do kind of feel that whatever happens in my life, God will be present and that His presence will make enough difference, not to keep painful things from happening, but to keep them from destroying me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But then what to do with the fact that people are destroyed? Hunger and war and sickness and loss and abuse do in fact grind people into despair. I can only hold on to the hope that God carries them through those terrible things to the other side, to a state of peace and joy. And in my own case as well, by not being destroyed, I don't mean avoiding death – of course I'm going to die someday. And I don't mean avoiding loss of home or health or loved ones or freedom or sanity. Rather I mean a belief that God will see me through, either to His good will for me in this life, or to healing and love in the next.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-68658976338900645342011-08-29T19:00:00.000-07:002011-08-29T19:00:14.547-07:00God and Nature<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The major idea in the sermon yesterday was that of finding God in the beauty of the world – that beauty is of God and that we should take time to notice it. I find this idea both very appealing and kind of dangerous.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The dangerous comes in mostly in how we then perceive other people. And it was mentioned that we're not talking here about what I think of as the cosmetic industry's idea of beauty. But we still have to be careful with that beauty-is-of-God idea when it comes to our fellow human beings. Just by chance, some people will be born with more symmetrical features than others. Some will be healthier or go through life with fewer scarring injuries. Some will more closely match the prevailing standards of beauty for body shape and size. And we all know it's ridiculous to say that if someone is more beautiful, that means they're closer to God. There have been some very homely saints, and there are people who are gorgeous but also self-centered or cruel. With humans, I think all we can say is that beauty is one kind of gift from God. Like musical talent or health or intelligence, it's good as part of God's creation, and it's nice to have or to appreciate in others, but it can be used for good or evil purposes and its presence or absence is not evidence of one's degree of righteousness.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">That said, I still do think there's something in this idea that beauty is of God. I definitely see God in the beauty of the natural world. In flowers and trees, of course, and in mountains and seas and butterflies and songbirds. But also in bracket fungi and slime molds, in mice and snakes, in spiderwebs and weeds. I find nature to be incredibly beautiful both in its visual patterns of color and shape and in its complexity and interconnectedness, and I'm filled with wonder at the fullness of God's world. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Even so, I struggle with what that means when the natural world is also often so violent. The webs that shimmer so beautifully with tiny droplets after a storm are death traps for insects, built so that the spider can paralyze its prey and later liquefy it from the inside out. The smooth curves of a hawk's beak and talons have that shape in order to grab and tear apart unsuspecting rodents. And again, I feel wonder at how well these creatures are adapted for their environments and for their roles as predators, but I also question where God is in the harshness of nature, in the way so many life-forms have to get their energy and structural materials by taking them from other living things, in the way even those that aren't predators or parasites are still competitors both with other species and with members of their own. In general, you're not going to learn compassion for the weak or love for your enemy by looking at nature.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I don't know what this means. At least one of the stories in Genesis seems to indicate a fully harmonious world before the fall, in which even the tigers were vegetarians. It's not stated outright that predation was a result of the fall, but I've seen interpretations in that direction – that the fall was when death entered the world for all living things, not just for humans. If you accept evolution, however, that's impossible to take literally – dinosaurs were killing and dying long before humans showed up. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One way to deal with this is to take almost a science fiction parallel universe idea of the fall. It's an idea that sounds kind of nuts, but one way that helps me make sense of both the truth I feel in the stories and the reality I see around me. So maybe sometime in a two-dimensional, sort of loop-like sense of time, there was something like a garden of Eden, and there was something much more like the fall as a single choice with echoing consequences. And maybe those echoes rippled backwards in time in addition to forwards, so that that harmonious creation was disrupted to the point of never having existed, and so we get evolution instead, and all the trouble of having brains in beta as our mark of original sin. The advantage of this interpretation is that it speaks to that idea of the whole creation as being redeemed in Christ, and that it gives some explanation to the harshness of the natural world. The disadvantage is that it really does sound like something out of a sci-fi story, and that I completely made it up.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Another possibility is that for most things, death isn't as bad as it is for humans because of the lack of self-awareness. I'm pretty confident that my life has more value to me than the life of a deer has to it. I probably care more about the survival of longleaf pine as a species than the longleaf pine does. And so the fact that there are wasps that lay their eggs in living caterpillars so the wasp larvae can eat the caterpillar from the inside out isn't as horrible as it sounds. (Though the fact that there are parasites that do awful things to humans who do suffer and who do mind dying is still an issue).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But even then, some animals do seem to have some capacity for suffering – certainly enough that most of us find it morally wrong to inflict that suffering on them unnecessarily. And I'm not sure how far chimps are from us in terms of self-awareness, though I don't think they have the nearly lifelong awareness of their mortality that we have to deal with. So it seems like self-awareness exists on some sort of a continuum rather than being a black-and-white issue. And maybe that continues past humans. After all, for us humans, much of our mind is unconscious and inaccessible. It's part of us, but we can't fully know it. I have trouble imagining that God doesn't fully know God's self. How else could He be entirely trustworthy, as Scripture and Tradition tell us over and over that He is?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm afraid I've ended with more questions than answers again. I find wonder and beauty in nature that speak of me of God, but I also find that much of life has to destroy or outcompete other life in order to survive, and I don't know why a God that's full of love for everything He's made would create a world that way. Maybe someday we'll know.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-67358823960170209512011-08-28T13:25:00.000-07:002011-08-28T13:25:13.325-07:00Being the church?<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I wasn't at church last week – I was in mountains and bogs instead. While I don't think it's a sin for me to miss church occasionally to do something else that has value, I definitely do notice the difference when I come back. Worshiping in community definitely helps me to feel more on track in my connection with God. I guess that's why Christians have been doing it for 2000 year (following in the tradition of the Jews, who also had communal worship). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Today was especially wonderful because it was my first day meeting some of the kids and parents I'll be working with as a youth leader. I won't be able to say very much about that ministry because I think it's important to respect the kids' privacy. Not just to keep them anonymous for safety's sake, but also to honor the sacredness of their individual and very personal self-expressions and explorations. So I won't be telling stories here about what this or that kid did, even without names. What I will say right now is that it's a really good-natured group of kids and that I feel privileged to get to work with them. I hope to be worthy of helping nurture the unique wonder that God has created in each of them.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It was after the youth group orientation as I entered the sanctuary for worship that I got a strong sense of how blessed I am to have such a wonderful community in the the church. That was part of what I had missed by being away the previous Sunday. I've been told that it's impossible to be a Christian in isolation. I don't know that that's completely true – I think if you get stranded on a desert island, you do what you have to do, and it's probably better not to abandon your faith in such a situation if you have the option. And besides that, people are different, and I don't think it's my place to determine how someone else should practice their faith. Maybe some people are called to be mostly alone.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For myself, though, I definitely think that Christianity is a communal activity. I do pray and read the Bible alone sometimes, but I find it more meaningful with others. I guess I buy into the idea that the church really and truly is the mystical body of Christ, and my connection to Jesus is primarily through the church. This doesn't necessarily mean just in formal or “official” settings, or just within my own congregation. The church is one, and so interacting with any other Christians could be being the church. I say could be because I think there might also be some intentionality involved. If I got together with some friends, even just from my own church, and we went out for lunch or something, we wouldn't necessarily be being the church. If our faith isn't informing our conversation or actions or attitudes, then we're just another group of friends out for lunch – which is not a bad thing and can be a very good thing. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And yet, that claim doesn't quite ring true either; I don't feel like you have to be very self-consciously churchy in order to be practicing your faith. And even if a group of friends goes out with no goal except to have a good time, the Holy Spirit can act there however she wants. You could find up being the church even if that's not at all what you planned to do with the evening. And I don't mean just that you could come across someone in need and help them out, though that would certainly be a good thing to do. I mean also that you could have an evening in which the love of God shone through your conversations with one another and your attitudes toward the world. Or you could not – and if not, I don't think that means we're bad people or even necessarily doing something wrong at that time. I think it just means that we haven't yet fully lived into the kingdom of God to the point where it's constantly manifested in and around us. I think a lot of what we do at church is practice making space for the kingdom of God to be manifested, and that making space is a big part of what I think of as being the church. I think it's often easier to do our part when we're intentional about it, but I also think we're human and not necessarily up for being intentional all the time – sometimes we just need to relax. And that's fine because God can still break in wherever God wants to. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So I find myself at a point of confusion. I think that intentionality matters and that it's good to be consciously willing to bring about God's kingdom. But I also agree with C.S. Lewis that there's a kind of importance in self-forgetfulness, of being with God in the present so strongly that that's what fills your awareness and that for a while you're separated from the constant questioning of “Am I doing okay? What am I about here? Is this who I really want to be?”, and that focusing on God is better than focusing on ourselves. I'm not sure how to reconcile those viewpoints; I'll have to think about that for a while.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-58009307420197587012011-08-07T09:59:00.000-07:002011-08-07T09:59:58.911-07:00Life Is Big<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Life is big. In fact, life is so big that I'm having trouble putting all the pieces together. This is a blessing in most ways – there's very little reason for me ever to be bored. The difficulty is in prioritizing, and in discerning where God's will is in that. So, being a compulsive list maker, I'm trying to break down the pieces of my life.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">First there are the family responsibilities: school now, a job once I graduate. I hope for the job to tie in directly with doing God's work in the world somehow. Not in the sense of church ministry, but hopefully in some way of caring for creation and doing conservation work. But direct conservation work might also be a ways off, so I'm searching for discernment on what to do with the skills that I have and the job market I'm in. And also with how much of myself I have to adapt as far as dress codes and communication style – to what degree should I be myself and trust that there's a place out there for me, and to what degree should I try to play the game? Then there are household chores that need done. And visits with family, all of whom are out of state. Of course that ties in to relationships too, since my family and Steve's are made of wonderful people who are important to me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then there are the parts of my life that are about relationships. These are a source of joy to me also, but I think of them as separate because there's a sense that, even if a lot of what we do is have fun together, there's a connection being strengthened, a sense of fellowship and living in community. This has become a big chunk of my life, but that seems to make sense as I've gotten to know more people and found more kindred spirits. There's the time I spend with my husband, of course. And the time I spend with other people who are close to me. There's the D&D group, the game nights, the parties, meals and stuff with friends, church book club, and phone calls/emails/Facebook to help keep in touch with people I see less often. And a lot of the content looks frivolous, and perhaps is – board games aren't very important to the world (though I think they are good practice with thinking and learning and problem-solving), a nice meal is much more about pleasure than it is about keeping me alive – but in some ways the content is simply a background for forming and maintaining those bonds that make life meaningful in and of themselves.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then there's the stuff I think of directly as doing God's work. There's conservation work – some of this I can do on a volunteer basis, like helping with prescribed burns and pulling invasive plants. But I still hope to do it in my career as well. And then there's the political engagement, trying to convince elected officials to make decisions that encompass the common good – my involvement has been emails and phone calls, but maybe there's more to do. On another note, I've agree to be a leader for part of my church's youth group, and I definitely see that as serving God. And then there are other, sort of one-time things that come up, often in church, that are worth helping out with. And all this church stuff ties in to relationships too, since the church is also a community. But then there's the question of making responsible consumer choices – trying to choose things that are made without harming the environment or exploiting workers, and trying to reuse and recycle and consider what I really need and not overconsume. But also not go crazy in the process, and have time left for the other parts of life. And then there are projects I could do to further that process – get rain barrels, get better at reclaiming graywater in the house in general, figure out how to make old shirts into grocery bags and find someone who can let me use their sewing machine to do it, plant a native garden, etc. I haven't done any of these things because getting enough time in one chunk is a challenge.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And I also need to keep myself alive and healthy if I'm going to be any good to anyone, so that means cooking (which gets into a lot of those attempts at responsible consumer choices), exercise – which can have a social aspect with racquetball or can be solitary, or can give me time to read on the elliptical, rest and sleep, and cleanliness and hygiene. And even then there are questions – yes, exercise is valuable, but is it more important to me to get the recommended amount of exercise or to do more to help others directly or spend time with people I care about? Sometimes I can do both at once, but not always. And sleep is clear enough, but rest sometimes means “wasting time” on the internet or whatever, which I think has some restorative value but can also turn into a distraction. Sometimes I feel able to focus and be really active and save the world, and sometimes it's a struggle just to be civil to the people I happen to encounter – there seems to be mental and social fatigue as well as physical, and how to handle those appropriately isn't as clear – is it self-indulgent to back off and take a break or is it wise stewardship of your own limited abilities? Undoubtedly it's sometimes one and sometimes the other, but how do you know?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And then there's spirituality – the worship and connection part of life with God, as opposed to the service part. (Not that they're truly in opposition, but there's a difference of focus). For me, Sunday worship is the most important part. But then I often struggle to stay connected during the week because of the ease of getting caught up in the week's activities, because I feel like I don't deserve closeness to God, because I'm confused about all the different ways I'm feeling pulled and don't know what God wants of me, because I get caught up in my own desires and cut myself off from God. I try to hang on, sometimes using the Daily Office, sometimes saying my prayers at bedtime, and sometimes exploring my questions with this blog (which then gets a relational aspect as people comment and share their ideas). I feel a powerful sense of wanting closeness with God and wanting the joy of God's presence, but I also know there can be a temptation to become what one of the previous clergy called a “sacristy rat,” involved in the trappings and beauty of worship but not going out into the world to do the work of serving God. So it's really important to have both, and again, the trick (which I don't have) is to find the right balance.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, there are things in my life that are purely for my own joy. Is it okay that these are part of my life? Is taking time for them a reverent enjoyment of the good gifts of God, or is it a selfish distraction from the needs of a suffering world? I'm talking about things like reading (also ties into the relational with book club), my recent discovery of music, spending time outdoors (which can connect to exercise, and to conservation work, and to relationships with friends who also love the woods), baking (which again has a relational aspect since I like to share the products), movies and travel (relational because often shared with my husband), and knitting, which I haven't taken up in a long time, but which also has a relational aspect because I prefer to knit for other people. How do I balance these individual joys with all the work that needs to be done? How do I balance these often solitary pleasures with the time needed for maintaining relationships? </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There's so much to do, and such limits on time, and also on physical, mental, and social energy, that I don't think it's possible to do everything I value. I truly believe that the best path is whatever God wills for me, but I don't know how to figure that out. How do I tell God's voice from the voice of my own desire? How can I trust myself to hear if the direction God is calling me might not be what I would choose? </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">“Direct us, O Lord, in all our doings with your most gracious favor, and further us with your continual help; that in all our works begun, continued, and ended in you, we may glorify your holy Name, and finally, by your mercy, obtain everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-25971207085017714532011-08-03T14:41:00.000-07:002011-08-03T14:41:16.244-07:00Adoration, Sin, and the Presence of God<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When I was a kid, I was taught to pray using the acronym “ACTS,” and I still use that when I pray by myself before bed, though as I've mentioned before, I switch up the order of the letters, so some nights it's TSAC or CSTA instead. Anyway, the letters stand for adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication. Confession, thanksgiving, and supplication were always straightforward enough for me, but for years, even into adulthood, I struggled with adoration. I sort of got the idea that it was about praising God, but I had trouble distinguishing that from thanksgiving in any meaningful way. I just couldn't see the point of sitting around trying to tell God “You're so great” thirty different ways. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I was finally able to get my mind somewhat around it when I read somewhere that adoration was less about complimenting God and more about just being with God. Something about “asking only to enjoy God's presence.” Which is both wonderful and problematic. The problematic part is that it seems so forward to ask to hang out with God. It's one thing approaching God about issues that God is far better equipped to deal with than I am: I screwed up here, this is beyond my capability to deal with, etc. And thanksgiving feels like an appropriate recognition of my dependence on God's goodness. But asking God to share God's self and God's time (and yes, I know time isn't an issue for God in the same way, but still) is claiming a very different sort of relationship. Not the boss whose office you enter only when you have a good reason, state your business, and leave before you're told to get back to work already. More like a grandmother who has all the time in the world for the little kid who thinks she's just the greatest thing in the world. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The wonderful part is that, based on my own experience, this does actually seem to be the case. I find that if I'm really looking for God, He's right there. The times when I've been unable to sense the presence of God have been times when I didn't really want to, because I didn't want to let go of my anger or self-pity yet, or because I knew that doing so would mean I'd have to change my immediate behavior. And it's not that I felt that God wouldn't let me approach until I put those emotions aside; it's that the narrow, bitterly self-centered worldview simply couldn't coexist with the glory of God. It's an old metaphor, but it really is just like a bright floodlight chases all the shadows away. And there have been times when I wanted those shadows more than I wanted God, which yes, means that there have been times when I wanted misery more than I wanted joy, or more precisely that I wanted my misery rather than God's joy. And there probably will be again. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Technically, this is a pretty classic definition of sin. Maybe not quite as classic as the child's definition of doing things you're not supposed to do, but pretty squarely within the definition of separation from God, and even chosen separation from God. Of course, I've always come out of it eventually, and undoubtedly that's because God was working at me on an unconscious level (and my anti-anxiety mess helped too, but that's a whole bother topic. Short version is that no, I don't think mental illness is sin on the part of the sufferer, but yes, I think it can affect one's spiritual life, and the more so since I think there is a physiological component to our experience of the divine.) But the thing is, even though it may have been sin in the sense of being separated from God and being very unhappy and having to repent and turn back to God for things to be made right, there was never a sense of reprimand. And much more of a sense of being healed than being forgiven, though of course both were necessary in some sense.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Anyway, that's not where I thought I was going when I started to write, so back to my original train of thought...if I look for God, I find Him, and if I ask to enjoy the presence of God (and then actually pay attention and don't run off to do something else) that's usually there too. And I have to nod to C.S. Lewis and say yes, I know that depending on emotions is a bad idea, and that God is there regardless of what I feel about Him at any particular time, but at the same time, my sense of the presence of God is more or less a feeling, and it's pretty consistent. And frustratingly hard to describe. I've been halfway thinking about it this whole time I've been writing, and the closest I can get is that it feels something like being about to laugh, though without any sense of ridicule – joyous laughter rather than flippant laughter (again, thanks to C.S. Lewis for that distinction). And there's kind of a non-visual sense of brightness. And sometimes a feeling of lightness and space. (And now some of you might think it sounds like I'm talking about getting high. Maybe it does, I wouldn't know. It's definitely not at all like getting tipsy.) And so on one hand, there's this amazing sense that God is always near. On the other hand, there's a sense that it's important not to take that for granted. Which is odd phrasing, because it almost sounds like we shouldn't assume God will always be there, but it seems like trusting in God means assuming just that. What I think it means, and maybe what C.S. Lewis was getting at too, is that it's important to recognize that my individual feeling of the presence of God is not God itself, and that if my intentions veer towards wanting to feel those things instead of actually wanting to be with God, that's a problem. To approach God as a means to an end rather than as an end in Himself is surely blasphemy. </div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-80750492522032579612011-07-30T14:23:00.000-07:002011-07-30T14:23:54.775-07:00Faith, Actions, and Words<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-52170011190012204152011-07-29T17:05:00.000-07:002011-07-29T17:05:54.935-07:00A Green Liturgy<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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 :-)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Processional Hymn: All Creatures of Our God and King</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voices, let us sing: Alleluia, alleluia! </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bright burning sun with golden beams, pale silver moon that gently gleams,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Great rushing winds and breezes soft, you clouds that ride the heaves a loft, O praise</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> him, Alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fair rising morn, with praise rejoice, stars nightly shining, find a voice</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Swift flowing water pure and clear, make music for your Lord to hear, Alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fire so intense and fiercely bright, you give to us both warmth and light,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Dear mother earth, you day by day unfold your blessings on our way, O praise him, </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> Alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All flowers and fruits that in you grow, let them his glory also show:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All you with mercy in your heart, forgiving others, take your part, O sing now: Alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">All you that pain and sorrow bear, praise God and cast on him your care:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And even you, most gentle death, waiting to hush our final breath, O praise him, Alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You lead back home the child of God, for Christ our Lord that way has trod:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Let all things their creator bless, and worship him in humbleness, O praise him, Alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Praise God the Father, praise the Son, and praise the Spirit, Three in One:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O praise him, O praise him, Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Celebrant: Blessed be God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">People: And blessed be God's kingdom, now and forever. Amen</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Collect for Purity</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gloria</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Collect: </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Old Testament Reading: Ezekiel 34:17-31</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Psalm 104:1-30</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, you are very great. You are clothed with </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> honor and majesty,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">wrapped in light as with a garment. You stretch our the heavens like a tent,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">you set the beams of your chambers on the waters, you make the clouds your chariot, </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> you ride on the wings of the wind,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">you make the winds your messengers, fire and flame your ministers.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You set the earth on it foundations, so that it shall never be shaken.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You cover it with the deep as with a garment; the waters stood above the mountains.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At your rebuke they flee; at the sound of your thunder they take to flight.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">They rose up to the mountains, ran down to the valleys, to the place that you appointed </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> for them.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You set a boundary that they may not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">giving drink to every wild animal; the wild asses quench their thirst.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation; they sing among the branches.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> work.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You cause the grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for people to use, to bring forth </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> food from the earth,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">and wine to gladden the human heart, oil to make the face shine, and bread to strengthen </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> the human heart.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In them the birds build their nests; the stork has its home in the fir trees.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the coneys.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You have made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">You make darkness, and it is night, when all the animals of the forest come creeping out.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When the sun rises, they withdraw and lie down in their dens.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">People go out to their work and to their labor until the evening.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> of your creatures.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> both small and great.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport in it.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">These all look to you to give them their food in due season;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">when you give to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> good things.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When you hide your face, they are dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> and return to the dust.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When you send forth your spirit, they are created; and you renew the face of the ground.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">New Testament Reading: Romans 8:12-27</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gradual Hymn:For the Fruit of All Creation (v. 1 and 2)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the fruit of all creation, thanks be to God. For his gifts to every nation, thanks be to </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the plowing, sowing, reaping, silent growth while we are sleeping, future needs in </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> earth's safekeeping, thanks be to God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In the just reward of labor, God's will be done. In the help we give our neighbor, God's will </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In our worldwide task of caring for the hungry and despairing, in the harvests we are </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> sharing, God's will be done</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gospel Reading: Luke 12:22-31</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gradual Hymn: For the Fruit of All Creation (v. 3)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the harvests of the Spirit, thanks be to God. For the good we all inherit, thanks be to </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the wonders that astound us, for the truths that still confound us, most of all that love </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"> has found us, thanks be to God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sermon</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Nicene Creed</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Prayers:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Confession of Sin</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Peace</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Offertory: All Things Bright and Beautiful</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Refrain – All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">all things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">he made their glowing colors, he made their tiny wings.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Refrain</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The purple-headed mountain, the river running by,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">the sunset, and the morning that brightens up the sky.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Refrain</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The cold wind in the winter, the pleasant summer sun,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">the ripe fruits in the garden, he made them every one.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Refrain</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He gave us eyes to see them, and lips that we might tell</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">how great is God Almighty, who has made all things well.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Refrain</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Great Thanksgiving</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Eucharistic Prayer D with Sanctus and Mystery of Faith</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Lord's Prayer</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Breaking of the Bread</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Fractional Anthem</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Communion Hymn: Nature With Open Volume Stands</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Nature with open volume stands to spread her Maker's praise abroad</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">and every labor of his hands shows something worthy of a God.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But in the grace that rescued man his brightest form of glory shines;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">here, on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn in precious blood and crimson lines.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Here his whole name appears complete; nor wit can guess, nor reason prove</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">which of the letters best is writ, the power, the wisdom, or the love.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Oh, the sweet wonders of that cross where Christ my Savior loved and died!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Her noblest life my spirit draws from his dear wounds and bleeding side.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I would forever speak his Name in sounds to mortal ears unknown,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">with angels join to praise the Lamb and worship at his Father's throne!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Communion Hymn: Morning Glory, Starlit Sky</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Morning glory, starlit sky, soaring music, scholar's truth,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">flight of swallows, autumn leaves, memory's treasure, grace of youth:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Open are the gifts of God, gifts of love to mind and sense; </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">hidden is love's agony, love's endeavor, love's expense.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Love that gives, gives evermore, gives with zeal, with eager hands,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">spares not, keeps not, all outpours, ventures all, its all expends.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Drained is love in making full, bound in setting others free, </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">poor in making many rich, weak in giving power to be.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Therefore he who shows us God helpless hangs upon the tree;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">and the nails and crown of thorns tell of what God's love must be.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Here is God: no monarch he, throned in easy state to reign;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">here is God, whose arms of love aching, spent, the world sustain.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Post-Communion Prayer</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Blessing</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Recessional Hymn: For the Beauty of the Earth</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the beauty of the earth, for the beauty of the skies,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">for the love which from our birth over and around us lies,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the beauty of each hour of the day and of the night,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">hill and vale, and tree and flower, sun and moon, and stars of light,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the joy of ear and eye, for the heart and mind's delight,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">for the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the joy of human love, brother, sister, parent, child, </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">friends on earth, and friends above, for all gentle thoughts and mild,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For the Church which evermore lifteth holy hands above,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">offering up on every shore thy pure sacrifice of love,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">For each perfect gift of thine to the world so freely given,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">faith and hope and love divine, peace on earth and joy in heaven</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Christ our God, to thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Dismissal:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Deacon: Let us go forth into the world, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit. (Alleluia, alleluia)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">People: Thanks be to God. (Alleluia, alleluia)</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-56115012237328017002011-07-25T06:31:00.001-07:002011-07-25T06:31:56.256-07:00Faith During a Job Hunt<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-78219903895209752782011-07-24T18:29:00.001-07:002011-07-24T18:29:53.952-07:00Musings on a Hymn<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Father eternal, Ruler of creation,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Spirit of life, which moved ere from was made,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">through the thick darkness covering every nation,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">light to our blindness, O be thou our aid:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">thy kingdom come, O Lord, thy will be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Races and peoples, lo, we stand divided,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">and, sharing not our griefs, no joy can share;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">by wars and tumults love is mocked, derided; </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">his saving cross no nation yet will bear:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">thy kingdom come, O Lord, thy will be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Envious of heart, blind-eyed, with tongues confounded,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">nation by nation still goes unforgiven,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">in wrath and fear, by jealousies surrounded,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">building proud towers which shall not reach to heaven:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">thy kingdom come, O Lord, thy will be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Lust of possession worketh desolations;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">there is no meekness in the powers of earth;</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">led by no star, the rulers of the nations</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">still fail to bring us to the blissful birth:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">thy kingdom come, O Lord, they will be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">How shall be love thee, holy hidden Being,</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">if we love not the world which thou hast made?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bind us in thine own love for better seeing</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">thy Word made flesh, and in a manger laid:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">thy kingdom come, O Lord, they will be done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-92032337249176784122011-07-22T12:10:00.001-07:002011-07-22T12:10:58.512-07:00Stewardship Questioning<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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?</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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?”</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-47823529096283620192011-07-20T12:49:00.001-07:002011-07-20T12:49:53.180-07:00Singing!<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-28893556211400528442011-07-19T11:45:00.000-07:002011-07-19T11:45:14.298-07:00Why I'm Not Pagan<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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. </div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-29345416823704262822011-07-18T08:14:00.001-07:002011-07-18T08:14:59.763-07:00Effects of Community<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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).</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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!” </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-82225116190995742102011-07-17T14:10:00.001-07:002011-07-17T14:10:48.883-07:00Parable of the Wheat and the Tares<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">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.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-72700679115610845762011-05-29T10:06:00.000-07:002011-05-29T10:06:08.312-07:00Ramblings on Other Religions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The sermon this morning was addressing the question of who or what is God, and eventually came to the answer that God is (in my paraphrase) what makes us know that we're not alone. One thing I like about this approach is that it has room for the religious experiences of a variety of cultures. Pretty much every culture has had religious beliefs of some sort, and just about all of them have included an idea of the presence of Someone(s). So that idea gives me at least some space to assume that all these peoples have had authentic encounters with God. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Not that it's up to me to decide that anyway, but it is something I've struggled with as a Christian – if I really believe that Jesus is the ultimate revelation of God, what does that mean for followers of other faiths or none at all? And like our deacon, I find this to be a personal question because there are people I care about who that question applies to (mostly pagan and atheist/agnostic in my world). </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So the idea that these cultures and people have had the experience of someone other than the visible/human being present with them and that that's enough to at least start to claim an experience of God is comforting to me. On the other hand, some of the portrayals of God that have existed over time are problematic: vengeful deities calling for human sacrifice, whether from your tribe or that of your enemies; deities representing the darker sides of creation; deities you might try to appease but perhaps wouldn't really want to have with you – deities that might make you wish you were alone after all.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But on the other hand, some of that can surely be explained by the fact that humans in general have undergone a good deal of development in our theologies. We're not trying to find divine explanations for storms and sickness anymore, at least not as the primary explanation. (We can and do still wonder why God created a world in which such things happen). Without any other competing theory, the idea that crops fail because the gods are mad at you sounds like a reasonable enough possibility, and if it leads to the risk of scapegoating when the gods are angry, it also allows some feeling of control, of being able to do something about it. The pagans I know accept scientific explanations of the world as much as the Christians, Jews, and nonreligous people I know, and they're not looking to kill someone in order to placate their deities. (Granted, there doesn't quite seem to be a continuous tradition of pagan beliefs and practices from ancient times to the present day, but still...)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And of course, the followers of any religion can misinterpret. Christians are as guilty of that as anyone, and misinterpretation is about the kindest explanation that can be given for things like witch hunts or religious justification of slavery. So the fact that so many ancient religions called for violence might have had more to do with people and social situations than with whether God was speaking to them. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When reading “Radical Welcome,” I came across the idea that, although God's covenant with the Jews is most directly important to Christianity, it's quite possible that God covenanted with other peoples through out history. The footnote pointed to a book called “Lift Every Voice: Constructing Christian Theologies from the Underside,” so now that's on my ever-growing reading list. Maybe after reading that I'll have more to say.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-34889705187720541822011-05-17T17:52:00.000-07:002011-05-17T17:52:05.732-07:00A Story of Prayer<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I'm not very good at prayer. I don't have any sort of regular prayer schedule, the Prayers of the People is my least favorite part of Sunday worship, and when I'm asked to pray for someone I do it right then and there because otherwise it won't happen. Which is why I'm going to tell a story about prayer that seemed to work for me.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I spent the last several days of last week doing volunteer botany fieldwork with people from my lab and other volunteers. I'd been really looking forward to getting out in the field, and in this particular case, I was excited that I was no longer a completely new student and didn't feel as much need to prove myself, and thought that maybe I could work hard and all but not feel overwhelmed. The law of the universe seems to be that once you're at all competent with what you've been doing, it's time to do something new. So this time I was assigned to be a group leader. To be fair, I had volunteered to do this if needed, though at the time I expected to be in more familiar plant community types. So I did that for two days and muddled through it and was looking forward to the fact that the last day I didn't think I'd be needed to lead, and besides I'd carpooled with a much more experienced friend and we needed to drive back together after the day's work, so we'd have to be in the same place, so he'd be leading, right? Wrong. Well, he was leading, but so was I – we were taking two teams and we'd each be leading one. And to top it off, we were working in one of the tougher vegetation types.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I was not happy. I wasn't angry, and I knew I had volunteered for this, but I was so disappointed at the prospect of spending another day feeling out of my depth. (Again, to be fair, I also really enjoyed most of my time as a leader – in part because as much of it was spent doing the fieldwork as actually leading). So, seeing no other options, I turned to God. I had to go back to my room to pick up a couple things anyway, so I spent a minute or so sitting on the floor turning my attention to God and asking for help. It was mostly wordless, and I think a lot of it was just that I was looking for comfort and a release from my insecurities and worries about doing a bad job, about not being able to identify enough plants, about making decisions I didn't know how to make. Basically to have that taken out of the forefront of my mind and to be able to focus on doing the best job I could and to trust God that it would be enough. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And I got that. My own particular sense of the presence of God, which I've experienced before and which I have trouble describing. A sense of lightness, a sense of calm and joy and peace. The scientist in me points out that this undoubtedly has a physiological component and that there's no way I can prove that what I'm sensing is God. On the other hand, I'm a physical being – everything I experience has a physiological component because that's the only way I understand the world – seeing has a physiological component too, but that doesn't mean the objects I see aren't real. And what makes the most sense to me is that this feeling is somehow connected to God, so that's my working hypothesis.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So at that point I was ready to go, still feeling somewhat nervous but ready to give it a shot. I made up my mind to sort of “check in” with God every few hours – sort of thinking that there might be a reason why all those monks prayed the hours. And I found it very helpful. It didn't take long, just a few seconds every few hours to try to align myself with God – my mental imagery involved using John Polkinghorne's metaphor of a laser – if God didn't want a geek, He should have made someone else. And it was a really great day, despite thunderstorms and briars and tiredness. It was also a day of great people, challenging but possible work, beautiful plants and animals, and an enormous sense of satisfaction when the work was done.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now it's disclaimer time. I absolutely believe that God was present and that His presence helped me through the day and filled it with joy and meaning. I do not for one minute believe that prayer will in all cases make everything nice and fluffy. I was dealing with a situation where the problem was mostly with myself and my own attitudes and fears. Real pain and grief do exist, and though I believe God can help us endure them, I don't think prayer magically gets rid of things like the pain of losing a loved one. Nor am I certain I would want it to – I seem to feel that in some way appropriate grief is a way of honoring those we love when they're gone. But that's a topic for another time, and of course different people feel things differently.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Meanwhile, I am trying to keep up with the regular checking in with God, using the monastery idea of every third hour (but 6 gets moved to 6:30 because that's when I wake up). Some days I'm halfway decent at being attentive, some days I barely manage a “Hi, God” because I'm just clamoring to get on with what I'm doing. And of course this is all based on a sample size of about four days. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The thing that's somewhat tricky for me to keep in mind but also very important is the idea that God truly wants to be in communion with us, does not get tired of us and want to be left alone, does not think that the things we pray about are too silly and minor for Him to get involved with, and does not want to punish us for our failings as much as heal us of them. And that God is capable of doing “more than we can ask or imagine” and that if our lives are indeed caught up in God anyway, it's not only okay but makes sense to rely on Him.</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7226632969719209311.post-1427148939301277972011-05-04T18:10:00.000-07:002011-05-04T18:10:21.541-07:00Radical Welcome<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Tonight at church after some work in the garden and a delicious dinner, I went to the first in a series of discussions about “radical welcome,” based around Stephanie Speller's book of the same title. The basic idea is that society has power structures, and those power structures naturally tend to show up in churches as well, with the same people who are marginalized in society as whole often being left out in church. More specifically, there's the issue of “doing for” as opposed to “doing with.” If someone is hungry, of course it's good to provide them with a meal, and even with shelter and job training and child care. But also important, and perhaps in danger of being forgotten, is that people also need relationships and community and the opportunity to contribute. To say that anyone can come into the church and join the worship service is necessary but not sufficient. Necessary because the alternative is to exclude people, which is just unacceptable according to the Gospel message. But insufficient because it's only allowing people to take or leave what's already been decided – not inviting people to be co-creators of the community.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One one hand, I think this is really, really important. On the other hand, I think it can be really, really hard. Hard for the simple reason that if you truly integrate people into the power structure who historically haven't been part of it, then in all likelihood people are going to use that power and are sometimes going to use it differently from how you would use it. And that can mean change, and change can be difficult. In some ways, I think that change might be especially difficult in a church. I chose the church I attend because it worked for me – the style of worship, the values expressed by the congregation, the sorts of activities carried out by the church. There's always the chance that changing something to meet someone else's needs might mean changing something away from the way it currently meets my needs.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But I do think it needs to be done. And the reason I think it needs to be done is that the message of Christ is more important than my specific preferences. One of the big, major points of the Gospel is that there is no outgroup where God is concerned. Jesus took time for people his society didn't look twice at, people his culture condemned, people who were unpopular, people he, as an observant first-century Jew, had no business being involved with. And he told his disciples to do the same. Historically, the church has often been very bad about doing this; my guess is ever since Constantine made Christianity the official religion, the very human people that make up the church have had some investment in the status quo. The church was for people who “belonged,” those who were accepted as part of mainstream society, which is about as upside-down as you can get from the idea that the whole point of the church is that everybody belongs.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">One of the interesting parts of the conversation for me was hearing how my own church has changed its views on gay people and on the Liberian community within the parish. In both cases, the church has moved over the years towards greater acceptance and inclusion, so that by the time I joined, I had no idea that things had ever been different. Of course gay people are welcome here! Of course the Liberian community is a joy to the whole parish! How could it be different? This gives me hope that eventually we'll be able to cast a wider net, and 20 years from now people will say of course that's how it is – of course there are people from the homeless shelter next door singing in the choir. Of course there's a member of the substance abuse recovery program on the vestry. Of course our music reflects the diversity of styles valued by different members of our community. Of course. The Gospel is for all. How could it be otherwise?</div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11413564891982532582noreply@blogger.com0