Preaching Peace

Masks of God

I’ve been thinking about what to say in regard to Trinity Sunday coming up this week. It’s a bit of a word jumble at this point, but here some musings on the subject –

In relation to the universe, our earthly environment is a quantum dust-speck, if even that. That thought is always in the background as I try to imagine the reality of a Creator. A few years ago I was at an event where part of my back stage pass allowed me to hang out with Stephen Hawking. The professor is currently working on what he calls a “Unified Theory of Everything.” He has this innate sense that ‘it’ can all be explained.

I told the professor that I appreciated his work and that I used it as background in teaching confirmation students.  Professor Hawking does not register emotion, yet I imagine his lack of response was close to his true impression of my comment. Even so, he is an extravert and enjoys the company of people which is probably why he hung around while other luminaries came and went. In a Brief History of Time when he was breaking down the Big Bang theory and what might have ‘caused’ the big bang, he said to the effect, “It would be at this point, if one were so inclined, to consider the possibility of divine intervention.”

Since the publication of A Brief History of Time, scientific theories regarding the nature of the universe have expanded its breadth and depth exponentially. In other words, it’s bigger and more mysterious than we thought even twenty five years ago; perhaps beyond the limits of human imagination.

If what has been created is beyond understanding, then the Creator must be more so. The Creator exemplified in the words, “When God began creating the heavens and the earth,” is not contained within scientific theory, even if that theory should be discovered in a Unified Theory of Everything. This causes me to think that a doctrine of the Trinity hardly begins to address the reality that is God.

Rex A.E. Hunt at St. James’ in Australia cites Marcus Borg (The God We Never Knew) and Val Webb (Like Catching Water in a Net) who suggest that the Latin and Greek words translated as ‘person,’ i.e. the ‘persons’ of the Trinity are not meant to imply separate beings so much as they mean ‘person’ as in the masks worn by actors in Greek and Roman theatres.

I can relate to the idea of the Godhead as personae rather than person. Especially when the concept of God the Father is incessantly hammered as part of a patriarchal mindset. If humankind is somehow a pinpoint, if that, of God’s image, then imagery exclusive to one of two genders is entirely inadequate.

It has been said, “But you know what we mean. We’re not trying to exclude anyone. Mankind is inclusive of everyone and God the Father means Creator. Quit being so picky.” Of course I know what is meant. I also understand the implications of meaning which is why I eschew God the Father unless I find it in a historical form such as “The Lord’s Prayer,” or the “Apostle’s Creed.”

Yet for some reason God wants to be known. Or in knowing that we are known we gain some sense of meaning for life on our dust speck. The Son, Jesus is who he is - no getting around his gender. Like a brother, who if either of mine when I was growing up ever said, “All right,  you can come too,” made me feel as if I had reached the pinnacle of inclusion. I tend to think of that when the persona of God in Jesus says, “Follow me.”

The Spirit? How does wind wear a mask? In terms of stage plays it’s part of the sound effects, the mood and ambience, the depth and colour and staging often imbues meaning apart from the words in a script. Sometimes you will read a review in which the scenery is described as an additional character.

We have moved away from the belief that God is violent. That characterization came through the violence of the cultures and mindsets in which the stories of God were born. In the same way perhaps we can move God away from characterizations that enshrine gender through doctrine. I just hope I get there by Sunday.

Take Care – John Mann

Receiving His Riches - Trinity Sunday

Receiving His Riches - Trinity Sunday, Year A


Yesterday, my parish held our "listening event."  That's a gathering during which we answered a questionnaire about ourselves and our hopes and dreams for the Diocese of Long Island.  We're about to call a new bishop here, and this information will help the nominating committee with their work.  The last question on the form was the most important to me.  "If you could ask a potential bishop one question, what would it be?"  I answered:

"Who is Jesus to you?"

I can always tell by the way a person answers this question whether they're talking about someone they've heard about, or Someone They Know.

You know that phrase, "What goes around comes around?"  Well, it usually works out that way, and as I prepared to write about the Trinity this week, my own question came back to bite right on the fanny.  I've written some pretty cool stuff (if I say so myself) about the nature of the Trinity, and, God bless his soul, one of the dearly departed members of my parish asked me when I was interviewed for my current position to explain to the gathered calling committee and vestry (I met them all at once.) why I thought the doctrine of the Trinity was important.  I'm told that my answer to that question really helped me get this call.

But I can tell you for sure that all I've ever written, and certainly that answer I gave almost 12 years ago would have failed my "Who is Jesus?" test. 

As I considered what to write, I remembered the words from Revelation, "And I heard a loud voice in heaven, saying, Now the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Christ have come, for the accuser of our brothers has been thrown down, who accuses them day and night before our God. And they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they loved not their lives even unto death."  (Rev. 12:10-11)  At that, I started to remember all that God has done for me, and how I might express that in terms of the Trinity.

And then I remembered some words from a teacher named Graham Cooke, "What God has done for you isn't your testimony, it's your history."  And I knew that a lot of what I'd learned about witnessing wasn't going to get it, either.

What overcomes the "accuser of the brethren" isn't my history.

And it isn't what I know about Jesus, or the Father, or the Son, or the Holy Spirit.

It is my word of my testimony about who They are to me.  (Boy, am I sorry I wrote that answer down...)

I'm not really sorry, but I am a bit nervous about talking about the Trinity because it's not something I'm used to doing, and it's like trying to tell everyone about the woman you've just fallen in love with.  You know the words will fail to capture the depth of feeling, and you'll probably wind up sounding like a bad, corny poet.  Still, there's nothing left but to try.  (It may not be "theologically accurate."  I sometimes can't tell which of the Three I'm really talking about!)

Okay, Jeff, who is the Father to you?

Let me begin by citing His Word.  Here is what David had to say,  "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer,my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge,my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."  (Psalm 18:2)  Now, those are David's words, but they sum it up pretty well.  In the Father, I find myself standing on solid ground when everything around me is shifting.  When I rest in Him, I feel infinitely small and yet I feel as though I encompass everything, too.  Paul described himself this way, "as having nothing, and yet possessing everything." (2 Cor. 6:10)  When I rest in Him, I know what David means when he speaks of finding safety "in the shadow of His wings."  I am utterly safe in a way that I have longed to be for as long as I can remember.

But that isn't the whole of it.  In the Father I also experience my God of unimaginable power and glory and might and terrible majesty.  It is a good thing that His Presence makes me safe, because if it didn't I would die of fear, beholding Him and His Glory.  I know why mountains crumble before Him as my heart cries "Holy!  Holy!" 

And finally (not because this exhausts the Father, but because just writing this is exhausting me) I know as I weep before Him that this terrible power is manifest in His Mercy, His Kindness.  Whatever remains hidden in darkness within me turns to the light as I contemplate that Goodness.  As Paul puts it, "Or do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?"  (Romans 2:4)  God doesn't want my fear to bring me to Him, but rather, He desires that I come because of His Kindness.  This fierce, jealous love He has for us, for me, is expressed through His costly Kindness.

And I suppose this, His costly Love, makes a good segue into the next question,  "Okay, Jeff, so who IS Jesus to you?"

Savior?

Lover?

Lord?

Yes, all of those, but all of those words have been so misused that none of them is sufficiently untarnished to describe my Jesus.

I laugh with Him.  I cry with Him.  I pray with Him (not just to Him).  I dance for Him, I dance with Him.  I sing to Him, He sings over me.  His love inspires, me.  It crushes me.  He grinds the shards to dust, wets them with His tears, and remakes me in His image.  He makes me brave when I have no courage (truth be told, I'm pretty much a scaredy-cat).  He gives me the oil of gladness instead of mourning. He pours Himself out over me as protection and shield, and He pours Himself into me as food and water without which I would shrivel and die.  He gathers, he treasures my tears (Ps. 56:8) and He lifts up my head when I am cast down.  He has taught me what true intimacy is.

Jesus went into hell after me.  When I thought myself so far from His Presence that there was no way back, He was already in the mire with me, leading me out.  I really didn't want to see Him in those days, because it breaks my heart to know that he came into those awful places with me, but He did, and I know it.  He rescued me, and He continues to be the only source of my salvation.

Jesus is more than a model after which I strive.  He is the giver of all that I need so that I can be and do what He needs in the world.  And this might be the time when I turn to the third question.  "So, then, Jeff, who is the Spirit?  To you?"

Fire.

From the time I first read Jeremiah's words, "If I say, I will not mention him,or speak any more in his name,there is in my heart as it were a burning fire shut up in my bones,and I am weary with holding it in,and I cannot," I knew exactly what he was talking about.  The Spirit is the One through whom God's transforming power manifests itself in me.  Sometimes He feels like pressure.  Sometimes like a burning, sometimes like a buried scream.  Last Sunday, we read about Jesus crying out in the Temple (John 7) and the Greek word for crying out suggests a harsh, hoarse croak of a cry.  I know that sound inside me.  I think my congregation's glad I try to keep it to myself.

But that's not all either.  Just as God's Might is manifest in me through the Spirit, so also is His Mercy.  The Spirit is the vehicle by which the Father pours out His soothing balm over my soul when I am tortured by my own sin, or when I am consumed by His Compassion for others.  The Spirit seems to suffer in my words from a certain "instrumentality."  What a mistake, to describe one of the Persons of the Trinity as a means by which the Other Persons work!  And yet, that is precisely what I mean, because it is God's humility that makes it possible to be both source and vehicle.  The Spirit makes it a joy for me to be a vehicle as well, makes self-emptying a joy and not a reduction of who I am.  "...For they loved not their own lives, even unto death." 

The accuser of the brethren will be cast down.  Cast down by the Blood of the Lamb and the words of your testimony.  When you can tell others who Jesus is to you, you will become an instrument of that wonderful victory.  If you can't yet answer that question as one who knows, rather than knows about, don't be concerned.  When Jesus asked His disciples, "But who do you say that I am?"  Peter's answer, Jesus says, didn't come from within him.  "And Jesus answered him, Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven."  (Matt. 16:17)  You and I aren't able to know this, to see it, to dance in this truth apart from the Father's disclosure.  If you want to know Him, to know Jesus, to know the Spirit rather than know about them, so that you can have a testimony too, you only have to do one thing.

Ask.

Jeff K.

Receiving His Riches

Receiving His Riches - Pentecost, Year A

Acts 2:1-21
or Numbers 11:24-30
1 Corinthians 12:3b-13
or Acts 2:1-21
John 20:19-23
or John 7:37-39
Psalm 104:25-35, 37

This morning, about 3:00, I woke up, as I often do.  Sometimes, I just say "Hello" to the Father and roll back over and go to sleep.  This morning, I got up to pray, which I often do, too. I got up because when I awoke, my mind was spinning with a dozen things I wanted to get done, most especially getting this piece written!  There wasn't any way to turn off my brain, so rather than lie there awake, I got up for some "lap time," as my friend/mentor likes to call it.  I got up and just spent some time, about an hour and a half, relishing the Father's love for me, continually refocusing my thoughts on Him and His Goodness when they started to spin.  While I was doing that, I listened to a recording of some Psalms I made a few years ago, so that I could be reminded, by means of His Word, of His care and protection for me.

After the "lap time," with Daddy, I got up and went back to bed and slept peacefully until it was time to get up.

Sometimes,  the gifts of the Spirit just aren't all that showy.

Oh, I have been in worship where the Spirit has manifested itself in wonderful ways, and to tell the truth, I still hunger for those moments.  But the manifestation of the Spirit that Paul calls "peace" is one that I make use of much more often.  (Galatians 5)  A friend of mine and I have recently noticed that in this verse (Gal. 5:22) there should be a period after the word "love."  The fruit of the Spirit is Love.  From this flow all these manifestations, joy, peace, etc. 

The catalogue of evils that precedes this verse all flows from the lack of Love.  The catalogue of blessings "against which there is no law" all flow from Love, the Gift of the Spirit.

All this is to give some context to what I want to say today about the second Gospel reading available to us from the Revised Common Lectionary for Pentecost.  Before even looking at them, I selected the second one this year because we've read the other every single year for as long as I've been ordained, and I thought a change would be a good thing.

In it, Jesus stands up on the last, the greatest day of the Feast and cries out, "If anyone thirst, let him come to me and drink!  Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, Out of his belly will flow rivers of living water." 

If anyone thirst.  If anyone thirst?  Is there anyone who doesn't?  If there is a person on the face of the planet who doesn't thirst, I haven't met him, or her, nor have I heard of anyone like that.  Is there anyone who doesn't become consumed with some task or other, desperate to see it done?  It doesn't matter how important or unimportant that task may seem to you and me.  It is the desperation that is the sign of thirst.  If you find yourself driven toward anything, anything at all, it is because of the thirst that only Jesus can truly assuage. 

This thirst, if we use our daily tasks to try to slake it, takes all the joy from them, makes them into vehicles towards another thing, not expresssions of the Joy that is ours in the Spirit.  And what is more, when we drink from the well that is Jesus, our own bellies (some translations have "heart" or "very center," but the word really means belly or womb) become sources of that Peace for others. 

So, when my mind begins to spin with all the things that I have to do, rather than dive in and start doing them, I go to the Father, through Jesus, to drink of His Love.  Just that.  His unimaginable, incomprehensible, unmeritable love for me fills the place that all those tasks were going to try to fill.  Only then will I entrust myself to my "to do" list.  (Oh, by the way, I did make a to do list before I sat down for prayer this morning!) 

Imagine the world where everthing everyone did, they did because they were "full" not "empty."  Imagine living that way yourself.  This is the Water you truly thirst for, and the only one that won't leave you thirsty again at some time in the future, because you can return to it as often as you need to.  This is the Spirit, the Comforter that He has sent to give us life.

In Him,

Jeff

Road Signs

While on holiday recently in the United States we decided to take the scenic route on some parts of our journey. We clocked 1500 miles on the odometer over a two week period. That was not an unusual amount of driving in America. Though the rental car was classed as a “compact” it was considerably larger than the one we drive at home. But with the price of gasoline at less than half of what we pay in Britain, it seemed like a bargain.

The scenic route took us through parts of the rural south. One of the highlights was the familiar sight of church signs. The Message for those going by at 60 miles per hour.

 “Jesus is Coming Soon.” What do they know that I don’t know? Though by the weathered appearance of the sign by the road one wonders if the sign painter is of the “a thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone” camp.

A hundred yards or so down the road is a companion to “Jesus is Coming Soon,” which states, “This is Your Last Warning!” Duly noted, thank you. I’ll bear in mind that should I feel in need of being warned again. I’ve had my chance. No more warnings for me. But what if I were to drive down that road again? Does my last warning become my last warning over again? Perhaps the sign painter should add a codicil stating, “We Really Mean It This Time!”

Some churches try for wit, as in, “God Accepts Knee Mail.” We wondered how that might work. Not the knee mail, but the implied sales pitch. What are the chances if one is driving down that particular southern rural highway, that by reading any of those admonitions one will be influenced to the degree of altering one’s behaviour by heeding the warning, offering the prayer, or attending the church?

What would it mean to actually heed the warning, as in “Jesus is Coming Soon.” If he is coming in the sense that the sign painters believe, then my hope is to be standing next to one of them when the time comes. Perhaps the updraft will lift me as well.

I tend to interpret the meaning more as the possibility of meeting my redeemer at any given moment. Conducting as many funerals as I do brings home the reality of the thin line between life and death. In other words, there are no guarantees as to the length of one’s life.

Some might say in response, “Live each day as if it was your last.” But if you think about it, that’s not very good advice. If I knew for a fact that this day was my last day, I would take care of certain details - such as saying good-bye. But if it was only “as if” this was my last day, then seeing people again or saying good-bye every day would be like the awkward running again into the people who dropped me off at the airport. 

Or some folks might simply conclude, “Live each day as if it was my last? But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in bed drifting in and out of consciousness.”

We missed out on attending a church service while in America. On one Sunday the family members with whom were staying suggested that they would rather stay home and have a leisurely brunch. I remembered all those times people said to me, “We stayed home because we had family in for the weekend.”

On the other Sunday we were in country we had planned to attend the local church of our tradition, but discovered that it was “Youth Sunday.” Nothing against youth, it’s just that it means more when they are one’s own youth. I’m glad we found out before we went. One time when visiting a friend’s church we discovered only after entering the building that she wasn’t there that week. And to make matters worse, it was “Clown Sunday.” Yeah I know, fools for Christ and all that.

There was something about finding out it was Clown Sunday only after it was too late to make a polite exit, let alone an informed decision, that made me feel tricked. I’m sure that was not their intention. Some warning would have been appreciated. Maybe a sign in the parking lot with a clown on it and the words, “This Is Your Last Warning!” The problem is, if I actually saw a sign like that I would probably want to go there.

Take Care – John Mann

A Stone for Bread

The lectionary recently coupled the story of Stephen's stoning in Acts with 1Peter's admonition to become living stones, built into a spiritual house. I doubt if there could be two more disparate uses for stones; the weapon of death is transformed into a shelter of life. I chose to separate the two readings and use the intervening week for a spiritual exercise the whole church could join in.  A church that includes children would need to consider issues of safety for youngsters, but older youth, teens, and all adults can easily participate in this.  My goal was to raise consciousness, to help us become more aware of our personal inclinations to violence, both active and passive, and to become aware that we are able to recognize them because of the grace and forgiveness that meet us at the cross.

I preached from the passage in Acts the first week, highlighting the  exposure of scapegoating violence  found in Jesus' cross as the dynamic that under-laid Stephen's speech, and ultimately, his death. Although the entire speech is too long to read in it's entirety, we read more than we customarily would so that the common theme of killing the prophets throughout history would be evident. Viewed from the perspective of our recent Easter celebration, we focused again on Jesus word of "Peace" to his disciples Easter night and the repetitive, and now exposed, violence of those to whom this made no sense beyond that of a threat to all they held dear. We spent a lot of time with the idea that "if we'd been there, we'd have done it differently", looking closely at Stephen's exposure of that fallacy. Finally, we were all invited to approach the table on which rocks and scraps of cloth had been laid out. The table was our communion table, the only one available in the sanctuary. We selected our stone and scrap of fabric along with instructions to keep the stone and cloth with us at all times, as much as possible, during the coming week. We were to carry the stone as a reminder of our own violence and use it to help raise our self-awareness of the desire to hurt others in order to protect ourselves.  The scraps of fabric (washed old Tshirt cut up) were to represent the coats and outer garments that Saul/Paul held while others stoned Stephen. Carrying them with us was a reminder of our passive aggression, all the times we stand by while others do the dirty work for us. The instructions were clear about including thoughts and words and deeds to people we knew and to those we didn't. Even discussions of political and other public figures counted. People were asked to bring both of the items to church the following week.

In addition to carrying the stones and the cloths with us, we were asked to pray with them.  Prayers for those we had hurt, or almost hurt, and for our own desires to hurt others were part of the process, but using them to pray in thanksgiving for grace and forgiveness were equally important. Becoming more conscious meant both being more aware of our willingness to be violent and more aware of God's love and forgiveness already extended to us in Jesus.  During the second sermon we focused on what it meant to be a living stone, making the connection between altar stones upon which sacrifice was offered and the living stones Peter encouraged us to become. We explored a number of biblical images and uses of stone, especially the cornerstone and the capstone mentioned in the text. The last thing we did was to build an altar of our individual stones on top of the communion table, a visual image of the transformation of sacrifice from a rite of death to one of life. Our closing question became: Am I willing to be the place where the world encounters God?  Insofar as we were able, we re/dedicated ourselves to that goal.

Feedback from the exercise  was greater than ordinary. Several people had a hard time letting go of their stone; they wanted to keep it. They had found it extremely useful as a tool for more honest prayer. More than one person had a funny anecdote about the stone falling out of their pocket or purse, and needing to explain it to people outside the church. Perhaps the most vivid experience of this sort was the nurse whose stone fell out of their pocket while at work, necessitating an explanation to the rest of the staff. As a result, the other nurses all wanted one too (positive mimesis anyone?) and the symbol of the stone we didn't throw became a buzzword on the unit. References to stones, or the desire for them, peppered the speech of the staff for the rest of the week.

While many people found it to be a meaningful exercise, ranging in their description of it from interesting to revelatory, one person labeled it destructive. They had carried the stone with them for several days, but finally gave it up because it was too negative. "All I thought about was that stone! I kept wanting to throw it- mentally of course- or hearing someone else say something that made me know that they'd want to throw it if they could. All I could think about were violent thoughts. I finally decided that it was destructive; it was ruining my life. I'm much happier not thinking about that stuff and just living my life, so I put it away. I brought it back this morning; I'm glad to have gotten rid of it!"

In defense of the person above, many people found it difficult to do; our personal violence is usually well hidden from us. Becoming more aware of it was definitely painful. Collectively, I think we were amazed by the extent of our violence.  I know we are thinking differently about the love of God than we had been. Next week we'll celebrate communion around the table as usual, but unlike other times, this time we'll break the bread around a large cobblestone in the center of the table. Jesus is the cornerstone and the capstone, our foundation and the one upon whom we lean- a whole new image of being the alpha/omega. Placing the bread one either side of the stone will give us the final image of healing and redemption; his broken body surrounding surrounding the stone that we meant for evil , but God used for good.

nancy hitt.

Many people wanted their stones back. Ultimately they either retrieved them after the service or took a new one from the basket provided for those who hadn't been there the previous week. Several translated the meaning of their stones to represent the strength of their prayers. Even those who expected to be unaffected said it made them think differently every time they became aware of it still with them.

Casual Dress

I don't get to many weddings; we don't do them at all at our church, having decided that until we can make a non-conflict oriented response to same-sex marriage, all marriages are on hold. For Baptists, weddings in church are a bizarre accommodation to the secular world anyway; we hold that marriages are secular contracts that lack anything sacramental about them- largely because Baptists don't acknowledge sacraments in the first place. Our sacred actions are referred to as "ordinances" because Jesus literally said/ordained: do this. That gets baptism and communion in under the wire, but not much else. (Which raises another whole question about all the other things Jesus said we should do, but that's another blog.) The fact that most Baptist churches also offer their services for weddings is a powerful picture of mimesis in action; we who founded ourselves rather painfully on the separation of church and state in this country have queued right up at the wedding planners desk lest we have less to offer than our sister churches in town.

The invitation read, "casual dress". Not sure what that meant, I asked. Surprisingly, no one knew.  It was a 1pm wedding at a fraternal organization's hall in a small town...and the hall had a chapel, so the entire event, from vows to catered meal and band for dancing were all right on site. Conversation went something like this: if they were being married in the same hall as the reception, it would be less formal...but they're using the chapel. That sounds dressier. It's inside instead of outside, which also sounds dressier; outside would be more casual. It's a sit-down catered meal, which usually means more formality...but still, the invitation specified casual. A call to the couple was of little help. "Wear whatever you feel comfortable in, just don't get too dressed up."  Clearly there was some kind of code here; at the very least one could err on the side of formality. Given the customary nature of weddings in this area as being the one time that people actually do dress up, it was confusing. No one seemed to know what the frame of reference was, which made it impossible to relate to. My husband brought a blazer "just in case", but after noting that the first few men to arrive sported a mix of golf shirts and shorts, he put it in the car. The confusion was even more evident among the women; some wore traditional "dressy" dresses, some wore casual office attire, and some wore jeans with cutout pant legs. The little girls were resplendent in pink and purple and lace and sparklies, and the young men stomped around the dance floor in jeans and hawaiian shirts and work boots. While the bride wore a white cotton dress, the groom wore all black- sans jacket or sport coat of course. The only suit and tie in the room belonged to the clergyman. It was the most unusual appearing collection of guests at a wedding I've ever seen. While appearance is not everything, it does provide social cues for behavior, which was equally confusing as the event wore on.

The service was focused on the love between the couple and their commitment to love, honor, and respect each other. The words "for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer" (or their modern equivalent) were nowhere to be heard. The promises made were more of the fairy tale order; love was magical, mythical, and transformative; it would make them both better, happier people. It might be hard, but together they could conquer the remaining dragons of life and live happily ever after. Ultimately, the couple were entering a pact that pitted the two of them against the world. What would happen to the two of them in times of "worse" or "poorer" was left unsaid. In the end, I wasn't sure just what kind of marriage I had witnessed.  That the two individuals now comprised one couple was clear, but it wasn't clear what the basis or the future of coupledom was for them. A lot of flowery sentiment about love was tossed around, but very little reality was addressed. The flower girls were mobilized for the recessional trip out of the chapel, strewing rose petals over the now empty runner as they followed behind the newly married bride and groom. They summed up much of this event: preparation was an afterthought.  For the next few hours of the reception, the crowd rolled with a largely unstructured occaison. The bride was in the bathroom when the emcee announced her entrance, the grandmother was seated across the room from the receiving line set up to introduce her to her newly acquired family members, and the children ran around the perimeter of the room while the babies cried at the overly loud music. The emcee called us a "hard crowd" to play to.  He was sure we could have done better- although I'm not sure what it was we were supposed to be better at. And that was the problem; the lack of formal structure left us in chaos a lot  of the time.  Eventually, all of the customary events had occurred, even if in no particular sequence; the bride came out of the bathroom and danced with the groom, the cake was cut, etc.  The food was good, spirits were high, and conversation and dancing were fun. But if there was a spirit present at this event, it was confusion. Confusion about what we were doing, why we were doing it, and how it was to be done.

I grew up in an era and an area of the world where social functions were highly structured. The liberation of the late sixties and subsequent intervening years have been a blessing. Freedom from the expense of the "right clothes", freedom from the social panic of the public faux pas, freedom from the need to know one's lines and say "the right thing" are all welcome freedoms. The mimetic heyday of the fifties where a lack of white gloves in church was cause for whispered scandal among my peers is something I don't miss.  What I missed at this wedding though, was sufficient structure to carry the event and make it meaningful. I'm sure various people found various forms of meaning in it as it happened; what I missed was the consensus of the crowd, the affirmation of community as we gathered to celebrate this change in status of two of our members. There was so much going on, so much spontaneity, that the marriage itself and the community designated to affirm and support it were hardly noticeable as such.  It left me wondering about the joy of community and the need for structure to provide space for everyone to enter into that experience safely. Most of the conversations I participate in that include an awareness of Mimetic Theory focus on negative mimesis and the crowd as mob. I wonder if we've thrown the baby out with the bathwater in our cultural rush to rid ourselves of structure. On the one hand, social structures have been used to oppress and to persecute on levels large and small. But on the other, is it possible, or even desirable, to have no structure? Don't we call that chaos? Our vision of the community at table in Communion requires a certain amount of order and structure so  that everyone is included. Where is the crowd formed by positive mimesis, a crowd that can use structure to find a way to include everyone rather than to identify who to keep out?

I left this wedding thinking that perhaps it had been launched and affirmed more honestly than it looked like at first glance. We had affirmed the love of these two people as uniting them against the world, certainly an accurate reflection of the prevailing world view in their community.  And we had launched them out into that world through a celebration that included more chaos and confusion than anything else. Although it feels honest, it also feels very sad. I missed the gospel that the Christian church provides. I guess even in principal I'm not that good a Baptist. I have to confess that I'd like to be able to integrate the gospel with all of our socio-cultural institutions, including marriage. If this wedding is any example, we're a really long way from doing that.

nancy hitt.

A New book by Rene Girard

Friends:

Evolution and Conversion: Dialogues on the Origins of Culture (Continuum, 2007) is one of two new books by Girard (this one is in English).  If you are a Girard afficianado, you will want to buy this as he revists his magerterial opus Things Hidden after 30 years.  New scholarship on ethnology, human development and cultural origins provide the impetus where Pierpaolo Antonello and Joao Cezar de Castro Rocha act as questioners to Girard.  It is 260+ pages, features a biographical chapter (which even has some stuff I didn't know), and chapters dealing with all the stuff you first met in Things Hidden and more.   

It can be ordered from amazon.com and is $29.95 paperback.

MIchael

The Vision Thing

“What Is Your Vision?” The question was printed boldly on a letter sized sheet and taped to a beam on the ceiling of the room where the church board met. I put it there for one particular discussion about where we were going as a church. It remained pinned up because no one ever took it down and so it served as a constant reminder. Of what, well the need for vision, one might guess. For all I know it might still be there.

The new millennium served for awhile as a focus for vision. People asked questions such as, “What kind of church do we want to be for the 21^st century?” Starting back five years or three years before the turn of the century, congregations invented vision statements that captured their hopes and dreams.

A lot of it was about church growth, naturally. Growth seems to offer the solution to what ails us. With the date out in the future a few years folks believed they could get there if they just put their minds to it and worked hard enough in order to achieve it. It was a good exercise for folks, especially those working in businesses where forecasting the future was part of their lifeblood.

Some congregations reached their vision or exceeded it. Some didn’t. I haven’t been around the American church for a few years now so I’m not sure where it is with the vision thing. I wonder if it was a 90’s phenomena as a by-product of all that “seven steps” to success kind of thing that was in itself a by-product of a financial boom that was largely unrelated to all the success steps people were applying to business systems.

Not long ago “purpose-driven” was the ethos du jour. Purpose requires a reason for existence and driven, well, it could mean who or what is at the controls of the forward movement. Driven however, impresses me more as to who or what serves as the drover and what implements are being used to get things moving – i.e. the theological/philosophical cattle prod that keeps people on the prescribed track.

I moved from a system that valued the new for its innovative potential, even though the potential often went unrealized, to a system in which new is regarded with suspicion for its potential to weaken yet more beloved traditions. The upside is that there is not a lot of pressure to grab hold of the latest thing coming down the church development pike.

The problem I had with the vision thing was the pressure it brought to bear on my sense of ministry. It implies that results are important and that goals and objectives can and should be set in order to take hold of the future. The future, regardless of how much we plan and predict for it, has not yet occurred. We cannot control it, let alone own it. The idea that we can control and own the future is symptomatic of our western sense of entitlement.

If we look back on our experience to those points where we planned and predicted as to where we might go, it’s interesting to see the extent to which the unplanned and unpredictable have had their major influences. Have our plans come to fruition, or have we followed a different path revealed along the way? To what extent have our beliefs guided our actions and to what extent are our beliefs responsible for where we are in life.

During one of our vision conversations some years back, I pointed out that “where we are now, for better or worse, is the coming to fruition of our past hopes and dreams. We need to ask ourselves how this relates to past vision.” Hmm. Dream? Yes by all means. Hope? Most certainly. But be careful about the parameters. They may be too confining to contain God’s purposes, let alone the realm to which Jesus pointed.

So far, I’m rather glad things haven’t turned out quite as I had hoped.

Take Care – John Mann

Taking It On The Chin

Remember the old Batman TV series with Adam West?  Every time there was a fight they used cartoon bubbles filled with 'Pow'. 'Bam' and the like.

I guess Preaching Peace has finally entered the fray for there are fundamentalists out there on the Internet who have chosen to 'sock it to us.'  First, they tried to derail Stricken by God? with ad hominem 'reviews' on amazon.com.  Rather than fight back, I asked friends to put up positive reviews.  Then a fundamentalist Mennonite website (rollovermenno) went after both Stricken? and Preaching Peace following the lead of another website.  I tried to engage them in a conversation but all they could do was quote bible verses.  Other websites have us in the company of the anti-christ.  OOOHHHH, I'm so scared.

Alas, it is frustrating when the partner in dialogue won't even dialogue but perpetuate a 'divinely inspired monlogue' full of accusations.  So now I am a heretic, a blasphemer and a false christian.  With all this mythologzing I suppose a crucifixion is next....

Of course I take all of this cum grano salis, considering the ignorance of the source.  Most of the time there is a sense of mirth when I read these attacks.  I guess what we are doing is hitting a nerve, indeed is 'stricking' a sacrificial nerve, much like Jesus did in his healing ministry or when he shut down the Temple.  I expect these attacks to continue and to grow as we move on.  I am grateful that I am not alone, they also are after the likes of Brian McLaren and Henri Nouwen, so we are in good company.

We are after all, soliders on the front lines, but our weapons are not those of violence but of love, peace and a sound mind.  Well, back to the fray, 'POW.'

Michael

No Bitter Tears

Following worship on Sunday we gathered in the church hall for the AGM or Annual General Meeting of the congregation. This was my fifth AGM since coming over to Scotland. It was a fairly routine meeting without the conflict and fireworks that I had grown accustomed to through my years in American churches. It makes me wonder about why that is.

The first “annual meeting” I attended was during a sojourn in a two church rural parish in northern Minnesota. The people in those churches lived for conflict. At the meeting one of the elders broke down and cried bitter tears because he was so upset at the way I was conducting the confirmation class.

“My boy can’t even recite the Ten Commandments!” he wailed.

His boy could probably have recited the Ten Commandments backwards in Latin if he had wanted to. When push came to shove he decided that playing the rebellious teenager would be more fun than pleasing his parents with a rote recitation to show that he learned his lessons well. I must have taught him well, it just wasn’t what mom and dad wanted to hear.

Over the years a pattern began to emerge. In one congregation I served, the AGM was the occasion to complain that I never visited people. This was in the church where I called on every single member within the first year of arriving there.

One woman said, “As long as he’s the minister there, I’ll never set foot in that church again.” What I did to offend her was this: She was home recuperating from knee surgery and I made a pastoral visit. I queried the status of the affected limb and plumbed the possibilities of its impact on her spiritual well-being. Before parting I offered a word of prayer.

What offended her was what I didn’t do. During my pastoral visit I did not ask her about her niece who had cancer. My only defense was that I was not aware she had a niece, let alone one with cancer. There were folks who thought I should have known.

In church settings perception is often mistaken for reality. About once a month I would call on one of the saints in a nursing home. She always greeted me by saying, “Well hello stranger.” When she was at death’s door her daughter-in-law informed me that the family wanted to ask my predecessor to conduct the funeral, “because he was her favorite pastor.”

Further along a few years and I had landed in one of those churches where people at the annual meeting said things like, “We need to run the church more like a business.” If they really meant that then instead of not giving me a salary increase some years, and in years when there was a raise it was tied to some magic 3% cost of living adjustment, I would have received a fat bonus that had nothing to do with my job performance. As it was, there was never enough money to meet the budget and somehow it was my fault.

Now that I’ve had some years to gain a healthy distance from my previous experience, it’s easy enough to see that the conflicts were endemic to the church system. Scapegoats are often required and the minister is conveniently at hand to serve as one. What really infuriates people is when you simply say, “I’m not going to serve as your victim.” As in, “I won’t play your co-dependent games.”

The rules make it a little easier here and certainly more pleasant at the AGM. Minister’s salaries all come through church headquarters and everyone gets paid the same, whether they’re in the big cathedral, the distant village, or in our case, the interesting urban parish.

Interesting on account of the people who live there and the odd things that happen. This year’s property report included an item about the front gate of the church. Last October a car piloted by a drunk driver plowed into the gate. The repair bill that our insurance company (naturally) is picking up comes to 13,000 GBP (think $26,000).

The iron section of the gate, which was knocked off its hinges and which took four adults to move off to one side, was then stolen. Sometimes you just have to laugh, which is what people did. It’s better than crying bitter tears any day.

Take Care – John Mann

The Common Good

Here are two interesting pieces of information I encountered in the past 24 hours. One may make you want to weep with frustration; the other with delight and relief. There's nothing new here, just the ongoing documentation of who we human beings are and how we're doing with the gospel Jesus gave us.

A NY Times editorial explored the connection between racial awareness and willingness to act on behalf of "social good" today. To summarize simply, the more people are aware of racial difference in the crowd about to benefit from any good action they may take, the less good they are willing to provide. The greatest good is provided by people who perceive the recipients to be a lot like them; the least in circumstances where the recipients are decidedly different from the donors. Several very dramatic examples were cited. One study found that for every four immigrants that enroll in public schools, one native student departs for a private education.  White congregations become measurably less generous when the recipients begin to include black people. We're not talking about overseas missions here; we're talking about the home mission field, our own communities. Apparently, the more racially diverse your city is, the worse it's roads are likely to be, since less monies will be allocated for these sorts of "common good" expenses.  Since at least 1893, observers have noted that America has trouble uniting for it's own good due to the perception of competition among varied ethnic and racial groups. This is not to say we never manage to come together at all, but it does suggest that something powerful is at work that cripples us from true unity for our own good. Obviously this is largely unconscious; I am sure that white churches are not aware that their local giving drops as the ethnic population grows. At least, I hope I can be sure of that, since anything else would be a total mockery of the gospel. And while we're fond of insisting that ignorance is no excuse from the law, I think we need to apply that to the practice of love also.  The implications of this material are serious.

How is it that "we" define ourselves, such that our willingness to contribute to the common good is compromised?  We're shortchanging ourselves, which might make you think we'd be eager to fix this, but that doesn't seem to be easy to do. The task would be immeasurably easier if both our analysts and our communities were at least as well versed in Girard as they probably are in Freud. Not that I think most people are up on the intricacies of Freudian psychology; quite the contrary. Most people are not. They are, however, completely conversant with the basic framework of id,ego, and superego (even if they use more casual language for them) and the concepts of the unconscious and psychological development.  Ordinary citizens are able to identify and respond to these abstract entities in their own lives and the lives of others, and use them to make constructive change.   Would that we could do the same with our group behavior based on the anthropology Jesus has shown us through Girard!  Then we might be able to predict our own limitations and plan around them, such that the common good might truly be served.  How we perceive our membership in the crowd, how we perceive others in relationship to ourselves based on victim/scapegoating dynamics, makes a huge difference in how we respond to common need. Basically, it seems that as soon as we identify the common good as being not so common -after all, THEY (whoever they may be) are going to get OUR goods....we withhold them. Sad but true according to historical commentary and recent scientific studies. Of course, in doing so, we also limit how effectively our goods may be used for ourselves- whoever we are!  We'll all be driving on equally bad roads in those ethnically diverse cities.  Clearly the gospel of peace and the truth Jesus exposed about humanity needs a deeper awareness among us all.

The second story is one I found in Sunday's Boston Globe. It tells the story of a school for girls in Rwanda that has been built, staffed, and operated largely by the efforts of a nun and a group of Boston women with money.  More than money, there was the desire and the willingness to use it for good, ultimately for what was perceived as the common good. The population of Rwanda has been decimated in recent years due to the violence and civil war the nation has experienced. Not a nation that customarily educated it's girls, and then not past sixth grade, the new Rwandan government under Paul Kagame has said that education for girls is crucial for the country's recovery. The story is a heartwarming tale of divine intervention through the lives of ordinary people who were thinking of other things until the Holy Spirit nudged them. Sister Ann Fox of Boston runs the Paraclete Center, an after-school program for children in need in Boston. Having just been reminded in the PP commentary for Easter II of the Paraclete's role as "defense attorney", protector and supplier for those accused and in need, I was sure as I read this story that it was a perfect illustration of the Spirit at work. What makes it all the more remarkable in contrast to the first story is the leap over the barrier of ethnicity and race. At the same time, I'm sure the dynamics of women helping women figure in powerfully; in some sense the crowd that is perceived as needing more common good is still based on similarities that are powerful. Recent research has demonstrated that while race can be regrouped under other headings, gender cannot. (this from a report exploring the power of race/gender factors in our nations upcoming election)  Again, knowledge of mimetic anthropology could be helpful here, especially as the new government in Rwanda attempts to manipulate it's populace for the common good.

Reading the news these past few days has felt like "two steps forward, one step back" in many ways. In this Easter season, I'm determined to celebrate the Spirit where I find her, and let that joy supply the energy that enables me to keep on saying the same thing over and over and over again. One of my more honest critics has told me that every Sunday I say essentially the same thing; she wonders if there's any more to the story than love, forgiveness, and peace. I say no, there isn't, at least not if we're telling God's story. Our own reads differently....but for the common good, I'm going with God.

nancy hitt

Are We Not Human?

Leave it to H.G. Wells to hit the mark once again. In 1896 he wrote a novel entitled, The Island of Dr. Moreau. A shipwreck survivor lands on an island where an infamous scientist lives in exile and works out his diabolical experiments to create human and animal hybrids. H.G. Wells always took things a few steps beyond, but that’s what made him such a great science fiction writer as well as prescient regarding the unforeseen future.

The 1933 screen adaptation was one of my childhood horror movie staples. There’s no one quite as capable as Charles Laughton made up as a pig-man to effectively portray the menace of science gone bad, at least for the nightmares of my youth. As he and his genetically modified cronies hunched out of the jungle chanting, “Are we not men?” you just knew someone’s demise was immanent.

Cut to Britain of 2008. The mantra has been updated to chant, “Are we not human?” At issue is a facet of stem cell research that involves creating human and animal hybrids. The aim is to create new therapies for age old conditions such as Parkinson’s disease. The process would involve using an animal egg cell from which all the genetic material has been removed, and combining it with human cells in order to create a stem cell which would begin to do what cells do – multiply into more stem cells.

The objection has been raised by some people who are of the opinion, if not conviction that human life and the creation of the human soul begins at conception. On the other side of the argument are the scientists who are of the opinion that all they are doing is creating a particular type of cell.

Playing God is what some would call it. Europe and Britain have a fairly open and less restricted approach to the use of stem cells than the United States. On the other hand, there are greater restrictions on genetically modified foods. The fear is that GM foods will eventually destroy the natural lines. But that fear does not apply to human biology.

Should it? That’s the hot question right now.

Essentially the ancient mythologies answered it for us when they told tales such as Pandora’s Box. Once the box has been opened, there’s no going back to the way it was before. Once the genie is out of the bottle, the genie is reluctant to return.

There will be those scientists who would seek to benefit humankind through research focused on pure outcomes such as eradicating disease. But history is rife with the effects of unintended outcomes.

If it is possible, then someone will do it.

Imagine that a clinic somewhere in Europe develops a stem cell program that can provide therapies for pre-natal “upgrades.” Not all governments would outlaw them. People with financial means could avail themselves of such therapies. Some would. In time, in order for your offspring to compete in a world of genetic enhancements, you will need to avail yourselves of the therapies. “When you think about it, it’s just like taking vitamins.”

Aldous Huxley wrote about a multi-tiered humanity created through genetic enhancements in Brave New World.

What drives such a scenario is neither science nor morality, but profit. If there is money to be made, then someone will make it. I would not wager against the probability that somewhere out there right now a contemporary Dr. Moreau is working on it as you read this.

The fact that people from the political, religious and scientific communities are debating this issue right now in Britain says that the question of whether it will happen or not has more or less already been answered.

Someday perhaps a new mantra will be repeated, one to suit the age – “That is the law. Are we not human?”

Take Care – John Mann

Bullying Billy

Not too long ago I suggested to our church leaders that we might want to consider adopting a program that teaches forgiveness and alternatives to bullying. Seeing it as primarily a problem of children, they pointed out to me that the local school system already does that, so if I wanted more people in the church I should come up with something new that no one else does. Sadly, we dropped the issue, although no one had anything to offer in it's place- perhaps because we weren't able to find a "synoptic" viewpoint. I wasn't trying to enlarge church membership; to be blunt, I really don't care about that. Anything done with the sole goal of increasing membership will usually fail; very few people are willing to contribute to a head count to make folks feel good on Sunday morning about belonging to a big-enough church. What I care about is extending the real effect of the gospel into the world, and I'm of the rather naive opinion that the church is responsible for that by definition.  As the story of Billy Wolfe shows, (www.nytimes.com/danbarry) the school systems of the nation are woefully inadequate when it comes to this.

Billy is currently 16, but has been regularly bullied since he was 12. No one is quite sure why, although there are a few guesses floating around.  Really good reasons, (!) like he was too tall, wore glasses, or, more likely, had difficulty reading.  More telling is the context of the first incident; Billy went to his mother when his peers tried to conscript him into their sex-toy purchasing plans. She blew the whistle on the project by informing the other parents, and Billy's life became a living hell. At one point the bullies created a Facebook page titled: Every One That Hates Billy Wolfe. It should surprise no one that their rage has a sexual focus; Billy's face was superimposed over Peter Pan, and he was described as being both a "bitch" and homosexual. What  is mind boggling is that no one in Arkansas can figure out why Billy is being bullied. The bullying has progressed to the point of blaming Billy for it; more than one school official has suggested either that Billy contributes to it or that he deserves it. It's also been noted that Billy's grades aren't that good; perhaps he's not trying hard enough? Or, is it that he can't read the material in his textbook due to the graffiti that has been inscribed there? Not to mention the demoralizing impact of the continual violence.

Currently, beating up on Billy has become a status symbol of sorts. The way to be "in" is to keep Billy out- and moments of violence are memorialized on cell phone camera's to document the achievement of the desired "I beat up Billy" moment. To say this is outrageous is an oversimplification. The question is, why can't anyone, his parents or his school system, keep this child safe while he gets his legally required education?

Billy's parents are deeply concerned about him, and have documented the incidents with photo's of his injuries and ER reports. They have a thick file. They don't want to remove him from the school; apparently reassigning him to another would require that the family move. They firmly believe that Billy SHOULD be safe in school, and they want the school officials to make that happen. Their most recent effort involves suing several of the bullies; they're apparently considering suing the school system as well. They wonder why the school does not call the police on behalf of their son; I'm wondering why they don't call them themselves. Not that I think it would do much good- after all, the whole cycle started with his mother intervening for him with his male peers. Replicating that dynamic would probably not come to a good end. Actually, I think that suing the bullies is a stroke of genius, although I think it's a lucky accident rather than a well thought out strategy.  I could be wrong about that, and I hope I am. It will bode better for Billy if the adults around him have caught on to what's going on here. But before addressing that, I have to ask why the parents aren't willing to put the safety of their son before everything else. I am not blaming them for the bullying, but I am holding them responsible for Billy's safety. If your 12 year old is coming home bloody on a regular basis, something needs to be done beyond documentation. Moving is one option; intervention that addresses the dynamics of the issue is another. In a sideways manner, suing the bullies may come closer to that than the parents probably realize. At the very least, it acknowledges the bullies as people of power, which might spare Billy's blood.

The school system does not  have the resources to deal with the human behavior evident in these students, even if they could name and explain it. If they do, they certainly have not used it to Billy's advantage. And while I'm sure there has been a lot more intervention than was documented in the article, it has clearly been ineffective for Billy. Four years is a lot of time to be beaten and bloodied.

So why is this happening this way?  The initial offense by Billy in the eyes of his peers was a betrayal of a sexual nature. I'm sure it was no accident that put his face on Peter Pan on that Facebook page; Peter Pan is the boy who won't grow up and be a man who has sex with women. Peter Pan isn't interested in sexual maturity; Peter wants to continue to play with the boys, which also explains the description of Billy as homosexual and as a bitch, the latter being a derogatory way of identifying who SHOULD be playing with the boys- girls. Regardless of whether the sex toys were intended for hetero or homo sexual play, the fact that Billy exposed this illicit desire made him a scapegoat par excellence. There isn't much that's more powerful than sex when it comes to scapegoating, and a lot less can get you killed.  At some level, the adults around him are participating in the dynamics of the crowd, equally unwilling to identify with this victim who refused adult sexual activity at age 12. By now, that's probably pretty well buried, but the process and the kinds of insults hurled at Billy suggest that this is a dynamic that no one is comfortable with; no one really wants to take this kids side; to do so would be to affirm Billy's 12 year old innocence as valid. It would mean that those who understand his reluctance to join his male peers in sexual experimentation may be reluctant themselves. Public identification with Billy would likely bring the same sort of anxious disgust and violence down on oneself.  It is significant that only his mother speaks as his advocate, something that probably reinforces the bullies disdain and their fear of him. He represents what is unacceptable in them, so he needs to have it beaten out of him/them. The dynamics of mimesis/scapegoating are screaming to be heard here, but like most mob scenes, the participants literally can't hear them. Yet, we expect our schools to deal with this reality on a daily basis. Versed neither in Mimetic Theory nor in the wisdom of the gospel, is it any wonder that they're letting the bullies beat up on Billy?

I'm going back to my church board with another request that we learn how to respond to bullies and assume a position of leadership in the community in that regard.  Schools are not charged with teaching forgiveness and love for one's enemies; the church is. The fact that many school systems have some sort of program to address bullying may speak more to our failure as a community of faith than it does to anything else. There are plenty of other people who do lots of the same things the church does, whether it's clothing the naked or feeding the hungry or housing the homeless or any of a zillion other things that churches do to express love in the world.  But only we have Jesus to show us both our sin and the solution.  It seems to me that we should be doing just about everything the world does, only differently, lovingly. Isn't that what  being a new creation in Christ is all about? I'm betting Billy would really appreciate it if someone shared the good news with him and those who bully him- and that's our job.   

nancy hitt

Nancy and Tony

  It is hard to bury a friend, especially one with so much promise, so much joy, one so much larger than life.  But we did it.  Carolyn, chair of our deacon board, and Linda TIllis of Making Peace Conference fame, and chair of our trustee board, along with choir and a host of others pulled together to give Nancy Roberts all that we could give her in thanksgiving for her presence among us @ Mayfield Church.  Linda and Joan had invited Nancy to Mayfield four years ago or so.  Nancy introduced us to the American Refugee Committee and the joys of global citizenship.  While she had as her primary residence DeKalb, Illinois, always in her heart were children and adults in the toughest straights around the globe.  Once in a refugee camp when she met lots of almost dead moms and children near the Mekong Delta, Nancy was told EGGS, bring them EGGS for help and protein and more.  Roads were bad and eggs would crack on the journey, so Nancy found a way to get them boiled and to the people in need, and she was there for distribution.  Nancy in 1974 had married Tom Roberts, Jr.  She and Tom carried forth the legacy of DeKalb Ag(riculture) as it was known in those days.  Feed the world with hybrid corn, feed and clothe refugees and assist them through the proceeds from hybrid corn.  Nancy found her way to Mayfield, this global citizen so comfortable with queens and kings and the rich folks of renown, and found a home with us.  God, I weep.
    When I told Tony Bartlett about her funeral, he said,  "Holy Saturday, great day for a funeral. Christ harrowing Hades! Tell folks how much we loved Nancy."  So Tony, I'm telling folks how much you and Linda loved Nancy.  When Nancy insisted on going on the drum stalk @ MP3 and was injured, she kept her jovial bearing as Linda dressed her wound.
    And then there was this morning, when Tony's phrase got translated and put into the morning message.  Ikes, yikes, MG is swearing in worship.  Christ harrowing Hades became "Jesus scaring the hell out of hell."  Cross Purposes, Tony's book, was in the background of my thinking.  There is no place Christ is not.  And no place from which he won't come and find you, get you.
    Tony lets us know that Jesus says, "Come on, join me in resurrection.  Come on out from your abyss, the abyss.  It can't hold you."  I was in prison, until I got w/ the preaching peace guys.  Tony, thank you helping me to get what's really happening with Jesus.   Thank you for reminding me with "Christ harrowing Hades!"  Thank you, Nancy, for daring to live the life of joy promised us BEFORE you died!

Mary McKinney
Mayfield Township
Sycamore, Illinois

No Longer Do I Call You Friend?

    As the shadows of Maundy Thursday lengthened, Jesus offered his disciples two blessings.  First, he gave them a new commandment:  "That you love one another as I have loved you . . .By this everyone will know that you are my disciples (John 13:34-35)."  And he bestowed upon them a new identity: Friend.  " I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father (John 15:15)."  These two blessings would not only survive the denial and desertion of Jesus by these same beloved followers; they would come to define the life of the new community born of Jesus' resurrection.

     The self-giving of agape love and the fidelity of friendship embody the gospel in the world today, and thus serve as powerful expressions of resistance to the gods of the prevailing order.   These have been very much on my mind while witnessing the  whirlwind enveloping Presidential candidate Barack Obama and his relationship to spiritual mentor and friend Reverend Jeremiah Wright.  I have prayed for them both, my reasons having nothing to do with electoral aspirations or the perceived future of America.  It strikes me that this is a particularly Lenten drama, where we witness the powers of the world at work, demanding blind allegiance, wielding mechanisms of labeling and scapegoating, asserting dominion over matters of faith, threatening a bottom line quite at odds with God's realm.  A confrontation of faith and idolatry, and so, one at vortex of our daily living.

    It was painful to watch Mr. Obama cower quickly before demands that he treat his friend as a leper threatening his ascendency.  The blog entry he released in response, "On My Faith and My Church" (http:// www.huffingtonpost.com/barack-obama/on-my-faith-and-my-church_b_91623.html) , had all of the characteristics--pardon me--of something uttered next to a charcoal fire in the courtyard of the high priest.  One longed for him to give as much, or more attention, to the gospel of Jesus Christ that he gives Reverend Wright recognition for preaching to him, "a gospel on which I base my life."  Perhaps some testimony to the true depth and texture of twenty years shared in the love that shapes us.  How about the integrity to challenge when others would shamelessly prooftext Reverend Wright's sermons, to confront the failure of those howling in protest to listen more deeply and carefully to a word preached from the context of communal pain and alienation, to embrace a common commitment (even in honest disagreement and anger) to discern a deeper, penetrating, eternal voice speaking to us through this experience?  Isn't September 11th part of a larger, tragic cycle of human violence and retribution (while indeed being inexcusable)?   Don't the scriptures indicate that the taking of innocent life comes under the judgment of God?  These days, while admittedly difficult and unwelcome, provide opportunity for the man from Illinois to publicly affirm the meaning of his baptism.   

    I am neither condemning nor dismissing Barack Obama. His dilemma is ours, albeit on greater public display.   In spite of my disappointment, I continue to like him, and feel compassion for him.  For me, this is a recognition scene.  I am challenged to identify not only Obama's kinship with Peter but my own. I am beckoned to make an honest appraisal of the titans of this world that demand my allegiance and the spiritual "pretzel logic" they insist I embrace. I must also be honest about the ways I accede to those demands.  The good news is that a far different kind of power has also asserted dominion over my life and yours; this I trust.  "There is a name I love to hear . . ."  The love given in order to flow through us, and the bonds of friendship that are divine gifts, are mine to claim this Lenten season. I have broken faith with friends more often than I want to acknowledge; these Lenten days both challenge and inspire me to turn around, to attend to and deepen my commitment to friendship, expecially during times of strain.   I have a Bob Raines quote written somewhere: "Satan taunts us to see whether we have the courage to live in our own skins."   Such are our wilderness journeys.  Jesus' accompaniment affirms, strengthens, inspires.      

    Barack Obama made a widely-heralded speech in Philadelphia yesterday, entitled "A More Perfect Union."  He is being recongized for speaking more honestly about the history of race relations and the challenges we continue to face than any other contemporary politician.  I have read the speech; at times the rhetoric is quite moving.  In the text, he offers a fuller portrait of his relationship with Jeremiah Wright.    To his credit, he says "I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community" (http://blog.wsj.com.washwire/2008/03/18/text-of-obamas-speech-a-more-perfect-union/?mod=ggoglenews_wsj) .  But he also labels him "my former pastor" and speaks condescendingly about what Reverend Wright understands and doesn't.  A news report that I read was subtitled, "Democratic senator's speech meant to repair damage to his campaign."  My Easter hope is that it will be friendship and community that is repaired.  I am reminded that the Passion narrative, while often excruciating, promises the good news of new life.  And that on Maundy Thursday, even as Jesus looks at his disciples who will deny him (then and today), he looks at us with Easter eyes.

Scott Hutchinson