The Way Life Is

Sci-Fi Presidency

I had a bizarre idea today.  It started with my lamenting that working and middle class people tend to vote against their own economic self-interests.  It's the secret weapon of the ultra-wealthy...  If the American legend of self-made wealth that's purely the result of hard work and bootstraps continues, poor and working class people will continue to believe that they have a shot at being the 1% and thus will vote for policies that protect that 1%.

It was all downhill from there.

Then I started remembering friends who were frustrated by their voting choices.  I had a college friend who was progressive and would generally identify with the Democratic party, but she was Catholic and opposed to abortion.  A second friend was also progressive and pro-Palestinian.  She didn't believe that a Democratic president would be effective in achieving justice in the occupied West Bank and Jerusalem.  I too have had trouble getting excited about the candidates on hand from time to time.  I long for a nonviolent presidential candidate who's not afraid of take on the military-industrial complex and the prison lobby. 

What if (my next thought and the big bizarre leap) we could vote for a president on individual issues without the distractions of rhetoric and personality? 

Following this to its crazy next step, here's my idea for a political science fiction thriller blockbuster.  Scientists are able to isolate the genes for certain political attributes.  Using a library of DNA from past leaders, we assemble a cloned president whose every policy stance reflects the votes of the majority.  No longer would voters be distracted by slogans and fear-mongering.   Individual voters would participate in a kind of political personality test to discern their thoughts on various issues:  foreign policy, morality, economics, foreign aid, abortion, the death penalty, leadership style, civil rights, environmental protections, and the regulation of industry.  The personal failings that have been troublesome for past presidents and presidential candidates are de-selected:  no addictions or sexual indiscretions or poor financial decisions.

A consortium of artists and psychiatrists would advise the scientists regarding the President's personality.  What colors does the President prefer?  Does he smoke cigars on occasion?  Does she drink Scotch or a martini at the end of a hard day?   What kind of music does the President listen to?

Is the President male or female?  Black or white?   I've thought of a couple of options:  random gene selection, a gene mixed based on the current population, alternating male and female every eight years...

After this scenario, the movie's actual plot is less interesting.  Maybe a terrorist infiltrates the scientists and adds a gene sequence for schizophrenia into the DNA soup that becomes the next President.   Could be fun.  The real question is (I'm holding up my sign - "Now I'm being serious") how can our political processes encourage reflection and thoughtful voting?  How can we identify candidates with views outside the narrow spectrum of what's expedient and give those candidates a shot at framing the issues?   How can we take fear and rhetoric and 'I'm tough on X' out of our national political conversations and get real?

Have a great weekend.

 

Liturgy - Part 2

This past Sunday was Children's Sabbath.  Children's Sabbath is an opportunity for people of many faiths to re-commit themselves to advocating for children.  People of faith are compelled by the Spirit to be a voice for justice for all people everywhere, but children even more so because they lack a voice of their own in the political process.  Perhaps if children could hire lobbyists...

The following worship resources are largely the work of the Children's Defense Fund.  I have re-written to adjust for inclusive language, congregational participation appropriate to my own audience, and for a largely nontheist worldview.  The CDF website includes resources and advocacy information for a variety of faith settings.

Something we had to work through - both in the staff and in the Children's Educaton Team - was the idea of Sabbath ABOUT children or ON BEHALF OF children, rather than Sabbath for children or Sabbath highlighting children.  Let's face it - children are cute and everyone wants to see them singing or dancing or ushering or whatever on a Sunday morning.  The idea of getting serious about children's education, safety, and health was something different.

I'm planning for next year an expanded (maybe multi-faith?) Children's Sabbath celebration with accompanying individual and community-wide opportunities for social justice action in partnership with the Shadow Rock Living Our Faith team.  Enjoy and use this litany, etc. if it is helpful to you or your faith community.

 

Call to Worship for Children's Sabbath

We come to worship, each of us as a beloved child of God.  In our worship, we seek to remind ourselves of each child's sacred worth.  We come with trust and vulnerability, acknowledging our interdependence.  We hope to leave refreshed and re-committed to service in the cause of justice.

 

Prayer Litany for Children's Sabbath

One:     The challenges facing children and those who care for them can seem so huge and so abstract that we lose touch with reality.  As we lift up everyday items, we remember the needs of each child, each parent, each teacher and each caring person. 

Many:   When we see a crayon and remember its feel and smell from our own childhoods...

One:     We remember child care providers and parents who provide safe and stimulating environments for our youngest children.  We pray for providers who are underpaid and undervalued; for parents who struggle to find quality care for their children; for children whose potential is stunted by unsafe environments.

Many:   When we see a piece of chalk and recall teachers who encouraged us...

One:     We pray for teachers who devote themselves to educating our children.  For their dedication, imagination, and concern, we are thankful.  We pray for teachers who are tempted to give up on themselves or on the children; for education workers who feel unsafe or unappreciated.

Many: When we use a pencil this week...

One:     We think of students striving to learn, especially those faced with the challenges of disability, unsafe schools, low expectations from their parents, teachers, and selves, and inadequate resources.

Many:   When we see a bandage and remember a childhood hurt...

One:     We pray for children who are sick and injured, whose ability to learn is hampered by illness.  We remember especially children without health insurance and their worried parents.

Many:   When we get a penny in change...

One:     We think of youths preparing for the world of work, that they will receive guidance adequate for discovering their gifts and talents.  We pray especially for young people who fear for their futures, who don't have encouraging adults in their lives, who despair of finding success.

Many:   When we use pen and paper in our daily busy-ness this week...

One:     We pray for leaders in government and business, that the laws they write and the culture they propagate will demonstrate an investment in our children and their futures.

Sending Forth

May the Spirit who moves in and through us as we work for justice be with you and every child of the universe, now and always.
Go forth, recognizing each child as a blessing from God.
Go forth, knowing yourself to be blessed.
Go forth, committed to being a blessing to all.

5 years

I'm here again in my undisclosed Wifi location on a Saturday night, hanging out and trying to stay awake while G-man boogies with his not-quite-a-girlfriend-but-more-than-a-friend.  I remember thinking of something marvelous to write about earlier this week, but the thought has escaped.  I'm reading some wonderful books right now - Philip Gulley's latest, The Evolution of Faith, Richard Rohr's Things Hidden, and a new memoir, Unquenchable Thirst by Mary Johnson.  Despite their wonderfulness, I don't have any new insights or synthesis to share with you.  I would love to say that I have something to say about Occupy Together... but honestly despite my sympathies with those groups, I just don't know what I think just yet.  So I'm getting personal tonight.

This last week marked the 5 year anniversary of my dad's death.  It was unexpected, although he had not been in good health for a few years.  I remember thinking that my grandchildren would not know him, that perhaps we would even lose him before my children were out of high school.  That they would be 9, 4, and 9 months at his death never crossed my mind.

Dad was a gentle man, a warm and quiet father.  Here are a couple of my favorite memories.

Dad's mother passed away when I was a freshman in high school.  She and I were very close.  Dad was an only child and she had longed for a daughter.  After she died, on special occasions, Dad would report that she had called him by telephone in a dream.  She called when I got married, when Galen was born, when Dennis and Katie graduated from high school.  In these dreams, Dad would be sitting in his recliner in the family room (probably 'resting his eyes'); the phone would ring.  He would know that she was gone, that she was calling from heaven or wherever.  She would offer congratulations or best wishes or whatever suited the occasion and share her love.  She missed us.  These dream calls were immense consolation for my brother and sister and me.  I wonder if he made them all up.  I'm glad I never had the opportunity to ask.

Dad was so proud of all of us.  Hardly a week ever went by that he didn't report our achievements and milestones to whoever would listen.  There are scores of people in the Piedmont of North Carolina that heard about our exploits... most of them Cadillac drivers.  When my boys were small, Dad shared a story of a young woman coming into the service department with a young baby.  While she waited for her car repairs, the baby began to fuss and the young mother nursed him in the waiting area.  She was embarrassed and apologized to Dad.  He reassured her, letting her know that his own daughter was a breastfeeding mom and he was both supportive and used to it.  It was nothing new that Dad was proud of us, but I was thankful for this moment when he was proud of himself.

Dad wasn't a high flyer.  He didn't invent anything, or write anything, or rise to the top of any field.  He was a hardworking family man who did his very best for all of us.  I am so thankful.

Liturgy - Part 1

TypePad has a little button, Stats, that tells me how many pageviews I've gotten in the last 30 days and where they came from.  I'm a sadly addicted glory hound.  But thanks to those who listened to my late night rant.

I've been trying my hand at writing some liturgy.  We have a tradition of creative and celebrative worship.  This is wonderful, except that it means someone has to do some writing or some searching/cutting/pasting every week to prepare the worship experience.  Back in the spring, I wrote the order of worship for our Good Friday service.  It was pretty difficult and took me a while to get everything to flow in just the right way.  Most recently, I wrote just the litany for the Sunday when we gifted Bibles to the Confirmation class.  The Bibles are actually purchased by our older adults' fellowship, so they participated in the service as well. 

See what you think...  The Psalm 145 paraphrase is my own.  Next at bat is Children's Sabbath!

Worship Leader:  Let each generation tell its children the stories of history, of people who lived radically, of events that revealed the Spirit.  Let each generation tell the stories its own way, proclaiming Truth and Power with fresh voices.

–Psalm  145:4, paraphrased

Worship Leader:  If indeed these are the times and we are the people, then the time is now to bequeath to these fresh voices the stories of our faith.  Today, we give our young people Bibles. Along with paper, ink, and glue, we give them a heritage of learning, struggling, and interpreting.  We give them story and metaphor, heroes and villains, inspiration and even confusion.

Worship Leader:  We pray, mindful of men and women among us and throughout human history who allowed the Spirit of Life and Love to work in them for the betterment of our world and humanity.

All: For their lives and their inspiration, we give thanks.

Worship Leader:  We pray mindful of the stories that shape us; of the blessings of scripture, the shared library of our faith tradition.

All:  For the stories and our ever-evolving tradition, we give thanks.

Worship Leader:  We pray in gratitude, for the gifts of wisdom and discernment; in humility, recalling the discipline and passion needed for teaching and interpreting; in hope, for the energy and fresh eyes of youth.

All:  For these students and their questions, we give thanks.

Worship Leader:  We pray, mindful of all that has brought this Confirmation Class together; of the Spirit at work in their lives already; and of what may be possible if we allow the Spirit to work freely in each of us.

All:  For these possibilities before us, we give thanks.

Worship Leader:  We pray together -

All:  Inviting the Spirit of Life and Love to move freely in our words and actions.

 

Have a great week!

 

It's a rockin' Saturday night.

I'm sitting alone on a Saturday night, at an undisclosed location with free Wifi.  My oldest, known as G-man here on the Big 3, is at a dance with a member of the opposite sex.  THAT deserves its own post for sure, but there's something else on my mind this evening.

We've been knocking around the idea of mission statements in staff meetings here lately.  It's a subject with a long checkered history at Shadow Rock, which I won't go into here, but I've been thinking a lot about the big questions.  Not that that's too unusual for me, but anyway...

When I was younger and much more energetic, I worked for a local United Way organization.  I was really a true believer in the UW movement (and I still am...  without the starry-eyed idealism, but still giving).  Most United Ways have adopted some version of the national organization's mission statement:  to increase the organized capacity of people to care for one another.  There's a lot to like in that mission statement.  It does what it should.

The 'capacity building' part and the caring part must go together.  We aren't building community just so people get warm fuzzies - the purpose of the capacity building is to get people the help they need.  And so it is with spiritual growth and education - We don't strive to grow spiritually just so we can feel good, become self-actualized, and sing Kumbaya.  Spiritual maturity empowers work for others.

It's an old drum, and sometimes I feel like I'm the only one beating it, but I'm at least getting better about articulating what this rhythm is all about.  My mission as a Christian educator is to increase the spiritual capacity of myself and others that we together might better serve the world.

Care to join me?

Desiderata

When I was a teenager, I had an 'artsy' poster with this poem:

"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy."  ~ Max Ehrmann, "Desiderata"

Many years later, I heard a minister use a portion of it as a benediction... "No doubt the universe is unfolding as it should."

Is it? 

This week, it's seemed that ecological disaster, personal failure, and distinct lack of humanity have been everywhere.  Reading or watching the news has me running for the antacid.  I think of the world my children will live in and I'm scared.  I like to plan my blog posts so that they come around to a nice point, something to think about.  Maybe I'm out of practice, but I can't wrap this one up nicely.

Someone help me restore my faith in people.

Is a poppy just a poppy?

Patriotic holidays are tough for me.

Memorial Day may be the worst.  On Saturday, I went to Wal-Mart (I know... that's part of the problem right there).  There were some VFW veterans at the door with the little paper poppies.  I said 'no, thanks' and felt like a complete heel.  My beloved Gramps is a veteran as was my father's father, along with many men and women that I love and respect.

But here's the rub.  The sacrifices made by veterans were made possible by their willingness to be used by our nation in war.  Being a part of war entails participation in a life of violence.  This is where I am, right now - I can't separate honoring veterans from condoning war.  I can't justify wishing for peace while preparing for war.  Every member of the armed forces - and the Quakers would remind me, every tax-paying American - is complicit in this life of violence.

We had a discussion recently among some church folks planning a new summer program for 2012.  One potential program focused on peacemaking.  At the bottom of the brochure, there was this quote, 'I will not teach my child to kill your child.'  In discussing this program, one committee member voiced a potential conflict:  her son has just joined the Marine Corps.  She didn't feel as if she could whole-heartedly support a program centered on nonviolent peacemaking.  "Oh no!" others enthused, "Marines are peacekeepers.  There's no problem!"

NO.

While I don't wish this Marine's mom any ill will at all (in fact, I admire her forthright honesty), I disagree with the way her conflicting emotions about this program were swept under the rug.  There's a difference in peacekeeping and peacemaking, at least in the way these words are used currently.  Peacekeeping involves a threat of violence... much the same way a parent might enforce quiet in the backseat with the promise of a spanking.  Peacemaking is harder by far, but it is the role we are called to fill.

Much of this post will sound familiar to those who know me or those who read The Big 3 with any regularity.  See 'Wanted: a Peace Church.'  Here's what I have to add that's a new insight for me.  I've always been perplexed by my anti-war commitment.  If you've ever considered pacifism as a moral position, you know the conflict to which I'm referring.  It's the old 'so what would you do about Hitler?' question.  Is pacifism a viable or practical solution to the complexity of conflicts between nations?  Well, I don't know.  Is this cowardice?  Maybe.  But it's my calling - to be the voice of the alternative, to show that a thoughtful person can make a commitment to nonviolence, to model peacemaking rather than the wider, easier road of peacekeeping.  I don't have all the answers, but this is where I stand.

But what about that little poppy? 

Join me for a cuppa.

The chorus lyrics to an old youth choir song:

Fill my cup, Lord.  I lift it up, Lord.
Come and quench this thirsting of my soul.
Bread of heaven, feed me 'til I want no more.
Fill my cup; fill it up and make me whole.

I just started a new book this morning, The Cup of Our Life: a Guide for Spiritual Growth by Joyce Rupp.  The author describes a cup as a metaphor for life.  It's as if we're born thirsty and holding a cup.  With what will you choose to fill it?  It's a rich metaphor... 

'My cup overflows with blessings.'  Psalm 23

'This cup is the new covenant.' Luke 22

There's a verse I remember from childhood about offering a cup of cold water in Jesus' name, but I can't find it this afternoon.  [a disadvantage to working for a church... my 'good' Bibles are at the office haha]

Anyway, I'm thinking this afternoon about the various things I put in my cup and what leaks right out.  Self-righteousness, status, material possessions... these things give a temporary feeling of fullness but it never lasts.  Even good things like work and family can be idols, destined to leak out of our cups slowly and leave us empty.  I've had this conversation with various people this week - how we can make an idol of our partners and expect him or her to fulfill our emotional and spiritual needs.  Even the care and love of our children isn't enough to fulfill us.  After all, children grow up and cease to need our daily attention.

So what is adequate?  Is it just a fact of this life that we are restless and unfulfilled?

At the end of worship at Shadow Rock, we close with Words of Mission, "May we love all and serve all."  This just might do it - knowing our place in the Universe.  Not gods, not just space dust... but blessed children put on the earth to learn to love actively.

So what's in my cup today?  It's coffee of course.  The cup of friendship and hospitality, with caffeine for energy to do good in the world.

Re-invention

I have a story to tell this afternoon.  You probably have heard it before with different characters. 

In eighth grade social studies (North Carolina history with Ms. Andrews, to be precise), I sat across from a guy named Victor.  Victor could have been an extra in Revenge of the Nerds - thick square glasses, oxford shirts, hair parted straight and on the side.  I wasn't exactly setting the world ablaze with 13 year old hotness, so we struck up a friendly acquaintance.  Nothing earth-shattering, nothing deep - just two slightly geeky adolescents chatting in the minutes before Ms. Andrews entered the classroom, fresh from a smoke break.

In the fall of 1984, I entered high school.  So did Victor.  I saw him on the first day of school.  Oh.My.God.  He had spent the summer going all kinds of Depeche Mode.  Different clothes, spiky hair with plenty of Sun-In, contacts, eyeliner.  No longer Victor, he was now just Vic.  I wonder now... how much time did he spend over the summer deciding what and how to change?  What inspired him?  Who supported him in the decision?  What did he hope to achieve with a change in appearance?  And now, 23 years later, how does he remember that change and is there anything he regrets?

Well I'm sad to say that I haven't seen Vic since high school so I can't answer any of those questions.  But I still wonder.  And I wonder even more about other kinds of reinvention.  Aren't we desperately in need of reinvention?  The church in general and my own church in particular needto grow.  We need adults who are not afraid of change, not afraid of doubts and questions.  We need education for everyone that focuses on growth and formation rather than orthodoxy and rightness.  We need people who are so inspired by Good News that they are passionate about a better world for everyone.  We need courage.

So I wonder about Vic.  I wonder about the courage that it took for him to leave behind his nerdy-ness (which must have been in some ways comfortable) and try something bold and new. 

Thanks, Victor, old friend.  Grace to you, wherever you are.

Existentialism in New Mexico

Are you a closet existentialist?  Well, I don't know about you, but I've been accused of worse.

We're in New Mexico this weekend on church business (I've got church business; DH and the kids have been sight-seeing).  So while the kids watch Bugs Bunny and DH snores, I'll share some thoughts with you.

New Mexico is a state that seems comfortable with existentialism.  It's the only state in the US with an official state question.  It's an existential question, because you have to answer it for yourself:  "Red or green?"  It's referring to food... red or green chili sauce of course.  Any day when I can semi-legitimately tie Mexican food to philosophy is terrific.

Another thing about New Mexico - it's WINDY.  Along stretches of Insterstate 40 we traveled on Thursday, you'll see a peculiar road hazard sign:  Gusty Winds May Exist.  I always smile when I see that sign.  It's an existential sign because it opens the question.  At the top of the sign, there's an orange wind sock, so you can judge for yourself if gusty winds do, in fact, exist.

Existentialism is an approach (to philosophy, to theology, to wind) that gives authority and priority to human experience.  It begins with what is real, with people in real situations, in the totality of existence.  Existential questions rise out of real life:  Where did I come from?  Where am I going?  Why am I here?  I am a Christian existentialist because I ask the big questions.  My faith - rather than being an escape from reality or a ticket punch for the next so-much-better life - is a response to what is real.  This faith sometimes gives me answers that ring true... and other times my faith gives me courage to live with unanswered questions.  When I get answers they are tested, not only against authority and tradition, but against what is true for me.

Who doesn't ask these big questions?  See?  You're an existentialist too.