30 March 2009
Lectionary Reflections for Palm Sunday
“I have heard the whispering of the crowd;
Fear is all around;
They put their heads together against me;
They plot to take my life.”
Psalm 31:13
I am riding on a high from what I felt was a pretty good sermon yesterday (A sermon that I delivered.) Reading the lectionary for this coming Sunday (April 5) I see some more opportunity to elaborate on what I was thinking when preparing for yesterday’s sermon (one of those “I wish I had said that!” moments).
In brief, my sermon highlighted the anxiety so many of us feel surrounding economic issues of late. I have heard all sorts of worries expressed. Some are important and painful concerns. Some (even from my own lips) are too embarrassing to name. Many of us are concerned about choices that others don’t even have available to them.
In the Gospel reading for this past Sunday Jesus declares that a grain must fall to the ground in order to bear fruit. Something has to die before there can be new growth. The things that I am so concerned about losing sometimes must be lost in order for change to come. Something has to die. Sometimes I get to choose what it is. I get choose holding on tightly or letting go for the sake of truly living.
This coming Sunday is Palm/Passion Sunday. In a brief period of time we will go from celebration to the crucifixion. As I read the lessons, the lines quoted above from Psalm 31 caught my attention. “Fear is all around” describes much of the talk I am hearing. The wealthy and the poor express some anxiety about the future. The crowd is whispering, and the noise is deafening. I would even say that some feel that there is a plot against them. What they have will be taken away. Their lives will be taken away.
While the sentiment may have been actual and apparent when written, most of us can only read this passage metaphorically. There is not a plot to put me down. I know that, but I sometimes feel the opposite. I often feel that losing all the stuff by which I define my life will certainly kill me. Somewhere in my heart I know that life isn’t founded on all the things that I put my trust in.
“But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord” the psalmist declares, and the Lord is worthy of our trust. God has a plot to forgive and heal. Christ brings life out of what is lost. That life may well be different than what we have planned, but it is real life that can’t be taken away by economic failure, sin, or even death. An impassioned prayer that reveals our honest feelings will not separate us from God either. So Psalm 31 stands as and apt prayer for these times. May we as the psalmist does in verse 15 proclaim to God our “times are in your hands.”
Fear is all around;
They put their heads together against me;
They plot to take my life.”
Psalm 31:13
I am riding on a high from what I felt was a pretty good sermon yesterday (A sermon that I delivered.) Reading the lectionary for this coming Sunday (April 5) I see some more opportunity to elaborate on what I was thinking when preparing for yesterday’s sermon (one of those “I wish I had said that!” moments).
In brief, my sermon highlighted the anxiety so many of us feel surrounding economic issues of late. I have heard all sorts of worries expressed. Some are important and painful concerns. Some (even from my own lips) are too embarrassing to name. Many of us are concerned about choices that others don’t even have available to them.
In the Gospel reading for this past Sunday Jesus declares that a grain must fall to the ground in order to bear fruit. Something has to die before there can be new growth. The things that I am so concerned about losing sometimes must be lost in order for change to come. Something has to die. Sometimes I get to choose what it is. I get choose holding on tightly or letting go for the sake of truly living.
This coming Sunday is Palm/Passion Sunday. In a brief period of time we will go from celebration to the crucifixion. As I read the lessons, the lines quoted above from Psalm 31 caught my attention. “Fear is all around” describes much of the talk I am hearing. The wealthy and the poor express some anxiety about the future. The crowd is whispering, and the noise is deafening. I would even say that some feel that there is a plot against them. What they have will be taken away. Their lives will be taken away.
While the sentiment may have been actual and apparent when written, most of us can only read this passage metaphorically. There is not a plot to put me down. I know that, but I sometimes feel the opposite. I often feel that losing all the stuff by which I define my life will certainly kill me. Somewhere in my heart I know that life isn’t founded on all the things that I put my trust in.
“But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord” the psalmist declares, and the Lord is worthy of our trust. God has a plot to forgive and heal. Christ brings life out of what is lost. That life may well be different than what we have planned, but it is real life that can’t be taken away by economic failure, sin, or even death. An impassioned prayer that reveals our honest feelings will not separate us from God either. So Psalm 31 stands as and apt prayer for these times. May we as the psalmist does in verse 15 proclaim to God our “times are in your hands.”
19 March 2009
Meeting God
Here in the study, I often encounter people sharing stories of their faith journeys. I love that part of my vocation. We all have a story, and I find that nobody has a story that is any crazier than any other story. (Some are crazier, but we all have our unique pit stops on the way.)
Recently, I listened to the story of someone desparately seeking some connection with God. They were not feeling close to God at all. As I listened I felt that this person was looking for some special revelation. I had to tell them that such experiences don't happen for everyone. I don't think they heard me.
The conversation continued with the lament that every time they came to church they left disappointed. "I don't care about the music, the sermon, or getting to know anyone. Isn't it really all about me and God?" After hearing that question several times, I just had to answer. "No. It isn't all about you and God." Community matters, and it is in community that we often meet God.
Jesus called disciples to follow, and to do his work. The followers of Christ have come together to work and worship for 2000 years. In serving others and praying together we learn what it is to love God. We may even learn what it is to be loved. I don't want to discount personal devotion. We need that as well. That devotion also needs to have a place for expression. I find that it is easiest with a community designated for the purpose of following Christ. "Easy" may not be the best description. Living in community is hard. No relationship is easy.
As to my visitor, I realized that they were meeting God, but didn't notice God's presence. They weren't meeting God in church or in meditation. They told me a couple of stories of reaching out to others. They had given money to a co-worker in need. They had bought groceries for a needy family. They were meeting God in those actions. God was working through them. They had met God in an unexpected place: themselves.
Recently, I listened to the story of someone desparately seeking some connection with God. They were not feeling close to God at all. As I listened I felt that this person was looking for some special revelation. I had to tell them that such experiences don't happen for everyone. I don't think they heard me.
The conversation continued with the lament that every time they came to church they left disappointed. "I don't care about the music, the sermon, or getting to know anyone. Isn't it really all about me and God?" After hearing that question several times, I just had to answer. "No. It isn't all about you and God." Community matters, and it is in community that we often meet God.
Jesus called disciples to follow, and to do his work. The followers of Christ have come together to work and worship for 2000 years. In serving others and praying together we learn what it is to love God. We may even learn what it is to be loved. I don't want to discount personal devotion. We need that as well. That devotion also needs to have a place for expression. I find that it is easiest with a community designated for the purpose of following Christ. "Easy" may not be the best description. Living in community is hard. No relationship is easy.
As to my visitor, I realized that they were meeting God, but didn't notice God's presence. They weren't meeting God in church or in meditation. They told me a couple of stories of reaching out to others. They had given money to a co-worker in need. They had bought groceries for a needy family. They were meeting God in those actions. God was working through them. They had met God in an unexpected place: themselves.
26 January 2009
Inauguration Report: Finally
I have not been blogging for some time. My virtual study has been dim. It is time to return, and to bring the warmth back. The inspiration this time is the recent inauguration of Barack Obama.
I attended the inaugural, and posted frequently on Facebook during my stay. Folks seemed to like my status updates, and have been asking for more stories. Now it is three weeks since the inaugural, and I am just now getting something out there. So I return to the study.
I traveled to Washington with my wife, our sons (ages 3 and 9), and an exchange student from Costa Rica. We stayed in a lovely inn in which my mother-in-law had reserved rooms over a year ago. Wait, I have to tell you about my journey home before I tell you anything else.
We had to catch the train to Baltimore at 2:00 to insure that we made our flight home. We were leaving the Mall as President Obama was finishing his address. I had followed the rules, and not brought a stroller so I am hauling up 18th holding my 3 year old who keeps encouraging me by saying things like: "I'm soo cold!", "I want to go home!" , "No we can't." My wife flagged down a pedi-cab (you know, a guy on a trike with a covered seat). We hopped in and dude is struggling, but making it. We get to the hotel, grab our luggage, gather our exchange student (Did I mention that she has had a terrible cold for the two weeks she has been in the States?), and decide to catch a cab as we are hearing reports that the Metro stations are jammed.
We made great time, and were at the airport three hours early! We go to check in and find that when making the reservations my wife had purchased two tickets in her own name intending one to be for our traveling companion. The agents are clear that we can't change the name at the airport. We must buy a new ticket! Fine, we can do that. We are then informed that there are no available seats on the same flight. What? Can't we have the one we intend to give up? Apparently not. We bought a ticket on a flight leaving two hours before ours, gathered our crew, and headed for security.
At security, our student has been tagged for review. Of course she has as she is a non-citizen who bought a ticket at the last minute. The TSA agent asked her to stay in place. Apparently she didn't understand, and joined us at the conveyor belt (5 steps away from where she was told to stand). The agent at the conveyor belt freaks, and tells our friend to get back. We explain that she doesn't speak much English. "Well, she needs to do what she is told to do!" We got things worked out and were on our way.
We got our friend off on her flight, and settled in to wait for ours. It was a good wait. We wound up sharing stories about the inauguration with others. On boarding the plane, it turns out that the seat next to me is empty. Well, it was until the nice man behind me moved up so the lady next to him could put her poster collection in his seat. (I am working on many letters to Delta, Travelocity, the president, William Shatner, and most local news stations.)
The flight was fine. Our three year old went to sleep before we left the ground, and we got to see the parade on the in-flight television. Upon landing, my wife and 9 year old son set off to retrieve our exchange student. My 3 year old and I gathered his stroller, followed after. We meet up at baggage claim, and all is well. We have a short trip to the parking lot, and we head for the highway. It is cold, we are tired, and we are almost home.
My wife asks what I want for dinner. It is my birthday after all. She calls my favorite burger place, and orders a feast. After ten minutes or so I notice that something is wrong. We are headed in the wrong direction! I had gone south rather than north! How did we not notice that?
We turn it around, and head north. My nine year old is now expressing discomfort. "I don't feel good.", "I am so hungry.", "I have a headache." My wife wisely asks, "Do you feel like you are going to throw up?" "No, I'm fine." We carry on.
With the car smelling of fries we make that final span of asphalt to the house. Perhaps 200 yards from our house, my complaining son indicates that he is indeed about to throw up. I stop the car, he jumps out, and manages to send most of the vomit out of the car. The rest was all over him, and enough did stay in the car. He declared that he was not getting back into the car. He would walk home. So he and my wife did just that. They met us shortly, and we put the patient to bed.
That was just the ride home. There were other twists on our agenda that weekend, but I generally have one impression of the experience. It was inspirational. With all the crazy things that happened, I would do it again tomorrow. I was proud to be an American, the spirit of the day moved me, and the crowds exuded a positive energy.
So what do I do now? How can I keep this inspiration alive?
That is what I hope to consider as I revive this blog. As it is a pastor's study, I plan to consider all the resources that faith can bring to the work of making a difference in the world.
Just from the ride home I can definitely say that no amount of mishap dampened my joy. May we all have that kind of spirit as we live every day.
I attended the inaugural, and posted frequently on Facebook during my stay. Folks seemed to like my status updates, and have been asking for more stories. Now it is three weeks since the inaugural, and I am just now getting something out there. So I return to the study.
I traveled to Washington with my wife, our sons (ages 3 and 9), and an exchange student from Costa Rica. We stayed in a lovely inn in which my mother-in-law had reserved rooms over a year ago. Wait, I have to tell you about my journey home before I tell you anything else.
We had to catch the train to Baltimore at 2:00 to insure that we made our flight home. We were leaving the Mall as President Obama was finishing his address. I had followed the rules, and not brought a stroller so I am hauling up 18th holding my 3 year old who keeps encouraging me by saying things like: "I'm soo cold!", "I want to go home!" , "No we can't." My wife flagged down a pedi-cab (you know, a guy on a trike with a covered seat). We hopped in and dude is struggling, but making it. We get to the hotel, grab our luggage, gather our exchange student (Did I mention that she has had a terrible cold for the two weeks she has been in the States?), and decide to catch a cab as we are hearing reports that the Metro stations are jammed.
We made great time, and were at the airport three hours early! We go to check in and find that when making the reservations my wife had purchased two tickets in her own name intending one to be for our traveling companion. The agents are clear that we can't change the name at the airport. We must buy a new ticket! Fine, we can do that. We are then informed that there are no available seats on the same flight. What? Can't we have the one we intend to give up? Apparently not. We bought a ticket on a flight leaving two hours before ours, gathered our crew, and headed for security.
At security, our student has been tagged for review. Of course she has as she is a non-citizen who bought a ticket at the last minute. The TSA agent asked her to stay in place. Apparently she didn't understand, and joined us at the conveyor belt (5 steps away from where she was told to stand). The agent at the conveyor belt freaks, and tells our friend to get back. We explain that she doesn't speak much English. "Well, she needs to do what she is told to do!" We got things worked out and were on our way.
We got our friend off on her flight, and settled in to wait for ours. It was a good wait. We wound up sharing stories about the inauguration with others. On boarding the plane, it turns out that the seat next to me is empty. Well, it was until the nice man behind me moved up so the lady next to him could put her poster collection in his seat. (I am working on many letters to Delta, Travelocity, the president, William Shatner, and most local news stations.)
The flight was fine. Our three year old went to sleep before we left the ground, and we got to see the parade on the in-flight television. Upon landing, my wife and 9 year old son set off to retrieve our exchange student. My 3 year old and I gathered his stroller, followed after. We meet up at baggage claim, and all is well. We have a short trip to the parking lot, and we head for the highway. It is cold, we are tired, and we are almost home.
My wife asks what I want for dinner. It is my birthday after all. She calls my favorite burger place, and orders a feast. After ten minutes or so I notice that something is wrong. We are headed in the wrong direction! I had gone south rather than north! How did we not notice that?
We turn it around, and head north. My nine year old is now expressing discomfort. "I don't feel good.", "I am so hungry.", "I have a headache." My wife wisely asks, "Do you feel like you are going to throw up?" "No, I'm fine." We carry on.
With the car smelling of fries we make that final span of asphalt to the house. Perhaps 200 yards from our house, my complaining son indicates that he is indeed about to throw up. I stop the car, he jumps out, and manages to send most of the vomit out of the car. The rest was all over him, and enough did stay in the car. He declared that he was not getting back into the car. He would walk home. So he and my wife did just that. They met us shortly, and we put the patient to bed.
That was just the ride home. There were other twists on our agenda that weekend, but I generally have one impression of the experience. It was inspirational. With all the crazy things that happened, I would do it again tomorrow. I was proud to be an American, the spirit of the day moved me, and the crowds exuded a positive energy.
So what do I do now? How can I keep this inspiration alive?
That is what I hope to consider as I revive this blog. As it is a pastor's study, I plan to consider all the resources that faith can bring to the work of making a difference in the world.
Just from the ride home I can definitely say that no amount of mishap dampened my joy. May we all have that kind of spirit as we live every day.
03 December 2008
26 November 2008
Advent approaches and I am feeling like doing some new year’s resolutions. After all, Advent does mark the beginning of a new church year. I often find myself resolving to do new things, to make some changes. I get these urges around transitional times. The new year, my birthday, Lent, and even the new school year send me into a pensive self examination. A recurring theme for me is the recurrence of particular resolutions. They are the standard health, new hobbies, time, and less this or more of that kinds of things. I can make a change for a little while, but then I fall away from my intentions. Some things should never have been on the list or are not worth worrying about. There are other things that matter, they are things I need to change. What is missing? Why can’t I maintain commitment?
I firmly believe that all genuine change begins with a spiritual change. With that in mind, I can easily fall into the guilt trap of thinking that I am not spiritual enough. I also believe that spirituality thrives on community. Individual spiritual “strength” means very little outside of relationship. Perhaps relational rejuvenation is in order before I can commit to an exercise plan or blogging on a regular basis. Thinking about relationships presents a host of questions and resolutions. I can pledge to do better all I want to, but the slightest failure to deliver can send me into my interior cave. Keep it simple. What is something that I can share in almost all of my relationships? Of course, food, I can easily eat with friends, family or strangers.
Food plays a major role in the transitional times of the year. On January 1 I eat as many black-eyed peas as possible, Lent has Fat Tuesday, and so I guess Thanksgiving could stand as the pre-Advent food fest. We could call it “Fat Thursday” or “Jeudi Gras.”
I am not suggesting that Thanksgiving be turned into a Bacchanalian romp. It could serve as a good time to examine relationships. It is a time packed with memories of favorite foods, and family gatherings. It is also actually packed with food. As we break bread together we share, we connect, and we relate. Just getting the meal organized, passing the food, and cleaning up take some communication. Perhaps we could take “Would you please pass?” and “Can I get you anything?” to everyday life. Those two questions can point us in the right direction(s). With one I am asking for help, and with the other I am being present to another. That is just me asking the questions. Turn them around and I have the opportunity to be open to receive. Giving and receiving are the stuff of transformation.
So this Fat Thursday I am putting aside my resolutions and looking at the people around me. I have the suspicion that I might find myself changed. Isn’t that what I am looking for with all my resolutions? I want some change in my being, not new activities. I am going to lift a turkey leg to relationship and expect transformation to come. I will be changing for relationship and looking for the advent.
I firmly believe that all genuine change begins with a spiritual change. With that in mind, I can easily fall into the guilt trap of thinking that I am not spiritual enough. I also believe that spirituality thrives on community. Individual spiritual “strength” means very little outside of relationship. Perhaps relational rejuvenation is in order before I can commit to an exercise plan or blogging on a regular basis. Thinking about relationships presents a host of questions and resolutions. I can pledge to do better all I want to, but the slightest failure to deliver can send me into my interior cave. Keep it simple. What is something that I can share in almost all of my relationships? Of course, food, I can easily eat with friends, family or strangers.
Food plays a major role in the transitional times of the year. On January 1 I eat as many black-eyed peas as possible, Lent has Fat Tuesday, and so I guess Thanksgiving could stand as the pre-Advent food fest. We could call it “Fat Thursday” or “Jeudi Gras.”
I am not suggesting that Thanksgiving be turned into a Bacchanalian romp. It could serve as a good time to examine relationships. It is a time packed with memories of favorite foods, and family gatherings. It is also actually packed with food. As we break bread together we share, we connect, and we relate. Just getting the meal organized, passing the food, and cleaning up take some communication. Perhaps we could take “Would you please pass?” and “Can I get you anything?” to everyday life. Those two questions can point us in the right direction(s). With one I am asking for help, and with the other I am being present to another. That is just me asking the questions. Turn them around and I have the opportunity to be open to receive. Giving and receiving are the stuff of transformation.
So this Fat Thursday I am putting aside my resolutions and looking at the people around me. I have the suspicion that I might find myself changed. Isn’t that what I am looking for with all my resolutions? I want some change in my being, not new activities. I am going to lift a turkey leg to relationship and expect transformation to come. I will be changing for relationship and looking for the advent.
17 October 2005
I am "THE MAN"
Someone I love recently accused me of being “the man.” No, they did not mean that I exhibit all the qualities of “cool.” This “Man” referred to the one who perpetrates a plot to keep me down. You know, someone who is part of “the system,” that dominating machine that keeps the less powerful in check. How could this be? I can’t be “the Man.” My hair is long, I wear Doc Marten’s, and I wear black almost every day. Well, appearance isn’t everything.
I possess qualities that give me a master key to the door of opportunity to be the “Man.” By race, gender, class, education, sexual orientation, and profession opportunities abound for me to enforce the rules of the dominant system. I didn’t ask for this, but I often enjoy the privilege. Maybe I was born to be “the Man.” Perhaps there is nothing I can do about it. Poor me, I have it so hard.
My own neuroses illustrate an appeal to order. It seems plain to me that people should always stand to the right when riding an escalator. Then, people who wish to walk up have an easy path. Turn signals are there for a reason. The rules of the express lane are paramount for the survival of our society. Everyone knows these things. They should know these things. Anyone who breaks these rules must be living with a careless attitude, or perhaps they are intentionally attempting to destroy the fabric of humanity and send us back to the primordial slime. Devil people!
Well now, all of that out of the way, let us move on. I most often participate in the system by following the rules for the sake of the rules. The ease of giving in to tightly organized systems offers a good fit. Don’t get me wrong, I am not exactly an orderly person. I see the iron as a decorative object, and file drawers are not helpful as one can’t see the things they might need. It is in moments when I need some control that the rules matter most. When I feel that I might fail at some task, lose the respect of others, or just might be wrong I tighten my grip.
Certainly, I give myself a hard time in these moments, but it is on others that I seek to enforce the order of things. I find myself feeling disdain for those who don’t keep appointments or are not punctual. I ignore practical suggestions and requests as they would cause me to deviate from policy. Anyone who can’t see that is just not paying attention. They do not see the big picture. Worst of all, they are not ready to hear the truth.
That, my friends, is contempt. When I hold another in contempt I fail to see them as a person. I see myself as part of the good and orderly system. I see the other as a fragment dangling from the whole page. The best thing that could happen is to cut them off. It would be best for them. I know these things, they have know idea what is good for them. By the way, contempt is fancy word for hate.
Wait, do I truly set out to hate others? No, that is not the burning passion of my life. I do give in to ways of being that lead to disregard of others. While my emotions or intentions don’t scream hate, the results that my actions have on my relationships are destructive. I do want to do good. My intentions flow from a sense that I am seeking what is best. The problem comes when it gets too complicated to consider all the issues. Things go awry when I don’t do as I believe I should do then I go on justifying my lack of action by blaming you for making me this way.
Is there any hope for us? When I say “us” I mean all of us. Any of us can fall into acting like “the man”. Sure it is easier for us wealthy, white males. However, all of us can abuse whatever power we might have, no matter how limited. There is hope. The evidence of love and compassion in the world proclaims great possibility for all of us. It is in being an “us” that we can resist the attempts of “the system” to dehumanize. From the positive, we are all created in God’s image. From the negative, we are all sinners.
We need the aspects of both blessedness and sinfulness to guide us in knowing who the individual is, and to recognize our connection to others. We are related by being. Recognizing you as God’s child opens me to welcome. Acknowledging my own weakness opens up some room for me to receive. Paperwork, rules, and systems might exist well in such a relationship. Yet, if the system exists for the sake of the system relationship will lose. Connection will be broken. We will be “the man.”
There is hope. We can be people who follow the rules and keep some order. We can also live with the flexibility to allow compassion and love to make things messy. Rules take a back seat to human need and relationship. God has broken rules (all the time). Hebrew and Christian scripture give some wonderful pictures of this. Rules were set up for sacrifice and worship (well, maybe God allowed those things). Then when folks started mistreating others God says sacrifice is no good. Sometimes God got so angry that the chosen were condemned forever. Then God comes back and offers a chance to be reconciled. That is real relationship. It is messy, it is a head bobbing, arm waving dance around the fire. That is love.
Maybe I will start a 12-step group for folks like me: “The Man Anonymous.” You can join. We can wrestle with that fine line between compassion and order. Folks like us can develop a good sense humor about our propensity to separate. “That is ‘you people’ kind of thinking. Work the steps.” We can honor the blessedness of all, and know our own weakness. We can refuse to claim strength by being “the man.” We can live in relationship and become “the love.”
I possess qualities that give me a master key to the door of opportunity to be the “Man.” By race, gender, class, education, sexual orientation, and profession opportunities abound for me to enforce the rules of the dominant system. I didn’t ask for this, but I often enjoy the privilege. Maybe I was born to be “the Man.” Perhaps there is nothing I can do about it. Poor me, I have it so hard.
My own neuroses illustrate an appeal to order. It seems plain to me that people should always stand to the right when riding an escalator. Then, people who wish to walk up have an easy path. Turn signals are there for a reason. The rules of the express lane are paramount for the survival of our society. Everyone knows these things. They should know these things. Anyone who breaks these rules must be living with a careless attitude, or perhaps they are intentionally attempting to destroy the fabric of humanity and send us back to the primordial slime. Devil people!
Well now, all of that out of the way, let us move on. I most often participate in the system by following the rules for the sake of the rules. The ease of giving in to tightly organized systems offers a good fit. Don’t get me wrong, I am not exactly an orderly person. I see the iron as a decorative object, and file drawers are not helpful as one can’t see the things they might need. It is in moments when I need some control that the rules matter most. When I feel that I might fail at some task, lose the respect of others, or just might be wrong I tighten my grip.
Certainly, I give myself a hard time in these moments, but it is on others that I seek to enforce the order of things. I find myself feeling disdain for those who don’t keep appointments or are not punctual. I ignore practical suggestions and requests as they would cause me to deviate from policy. Anyone who can’t see that is just not paying attention. They do not see the big picture. Worst of all, they are not ready to hear the truth.
That, my friends, is contempt. When I hold another in contempt I fail to see them as a person. I see myself as part of the good and orderly system. I see the other as a fragment dangling from the whole page. The best thing that could happen is to cut them off. It would be best for them. I know these things, they have know idea what is good for them. By the way, contempt is fancy word for hate.
Wait, do I truly set out to hate others? No, that is not the burning passion of my life. I do give in to ways of being that lead to disregard of others. While my emotions or intentions don’t scream hate, the results that my actions have on my relationships are destructive. I do want to do good. My intentions flow from a sense that I am seeking what is best. The problem comes when it gets too complicated to consider all the issues. Things go awry when I don’t do as I believe I should do then I go on justifying my lack of action by blaming you for making me this way.
Is there any hope for us? When I say “us” I mean all of us. Any of us can fall into acting like “the man”. Sure it is easier for us wealthy, white males. However, all of us can abuse whatever power we might have, no matter how limited. There is hope. The evidence of love and compassion in the world proclaims great possibility for all of us. It is in being an “us” that we can resist the attempts of “the system” to dehumanize. From the positive, we are all created in God’s image. From the negative, we are all sinners.
We need the aspects of both blessedness and sinfulness to guide us in knowing who the individual is, and to recognize our connection to others. We are related by being. Recognizing you as God’s child opens me to welcome. Acknowledging my own weakness opens up some room for me to receive. Paperwork, rules, and systems might exist well in such a relationship. Yet, if the system exists for the sake of the system relationship will lose. Connection will be broken. We will be “the man.”
There is hope. We can be people who follow the rules and keep some order. We can also live with the flexibility to allow compassion and love to make things messy. Rules take a back seat to human need and relationship. God has broken rules (all the time). Hebrew and Christian scripture give some wonderful pictures of this. Rules were set up for sacrifice and worship (well, maybe God allowed those things). Then when folks started mistreating others God says sacrifice is no good. Sometimes God got so angry that the chosen were condemned forever. Then God comes back and offers a chance to be reconciled. That is real relationship. It is messy, it is a head bobbing, arm waving dance around the fire. That is love.
Maybe I will start a 12-step group for folks like me: “The Man Anonymous.” You can join. We can wrestle with that fine line between compassion and order. Folks like us can develop a good sense humor about our propensity to separate. “That is ‘you people’ kind of thinking. Work the steps.” We can honor the blessedness of all, and know our own weakness. We can refuse to claim strength by being “the man.” We can live in relationship and become “the love.”
25 July 2005
Come on in and rap with me.
Greetings to all the good people taking the time to drop by. My door is always open though you may sometimes find a small dog, stack of books, or drum in front of it. My study is the place where we can study together the ways of life, and I suppose even death is part of my work. (Then again, death is part of life.) Anyway, you don't have to call me "Father." Some folks do, and it either makes me feel weird, feel old, feel superior, or feel like someone is referring to me using a title familiar to them. I am also known as John Mark. I am a priest at The Cathedral of St. Philip in Atlanta, Georgia. www.stphilipscathedral.org
I welcome all parishioners and any other folks who want to stop by. I thought that I would keep a journal of the priestly life as well as offer some reflections on faith and the connections to everything else.
This would be my first attempt at the blog world. I can think of no other reason for me to do this than shameless self-promotion. It could also save others from me forwarding them jokes and other stuff I have found on the web. (I don't do that.) I could be sending those follow up e-mails that say how I am sending you this funny or inspiring syrup because I care about you. (I don't do that either. I just don't send much of anything and now I am going to ask friends and strangers to check out my blog.) Whew, I have to slow down on the Tic-Tacs.
So this is Father Dude's study. I will be looking holy and stroking my beard.
Thanks for dropping by, and many blessings.
I welcome all parishioners and any other folks who want to stop by. I thought that I would keep a journal of the priestly life as well as offer some reflections on faith and the connections to everything else.
This would be my first attempt at the blog world. I can think of no other reason for me to do this than shameless self-promotion. It could also save others from me forwarding them jokes and other stuff I have found on the web. (I don't do that.) I could be sending those follow up e-mails that say how I am sending you this funny or inspiring syrup because I care about you. (I don't do that either. I just don't send much of anything and now I am going to ask friends and strangers to check out my blog.) Whew, I have to slow down on the Tic-Tacs.
So this is Father Dude's study. I will be looking holy and stroking my beard.
Thanks for dropping by, and many blessings.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)