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Difficult conversations

Difficult conversations

Wed., Aug. 29, 2012–Our Board of Deacons spent a lovely evening together last night around the dinner table and then on sofa and chairs in the living room.  We try to “retreat”–or “advance,” as I like to think of it–at least once a year, usually in the summer.  It gives us a chance to be together in a non-“meeting” setting and to take a little more time to go deeper into a topic or concern that we never seem to have time for during our regular meetings.

We had agreed that last night we would talk about “difficult conversations”–how to be clear about our boundaries of what we could and couldn’t do, what to do when emotions might be high, how to deal with difficult issues, like death, or family dynamics.  Sitting around the living room, we could speak and listen to one another with a softness and openness that a more formal setting would have made more difficult.

In some ways, we modeled a difficult conversation, for as we shared how we had each been at a loss or felt uncomfortable in conversations, we held each other in the Light and Love of God, listened, and gently asked questions or suggested alternative ways to steer the conversation.  We agreed that the questions we asked were more important than any answers we might give.  For example, while hearing and acknowledging someone’s complaints or pain, at a certain point it might be helpful to open the possibility of looking at something that’s going right, at some gift or strength they have, at some reason for hope.  Acknowledge the pain AND lift up the possibility.  When we focus on or give attention to the positive and the hopeful, it actually gives life and energy to that, instead of simply getting sucked into the negative energy of what is not going well.

If we anticipate a difficult conversation, it’s important to take the time ahead of time to ground ourselves in the truth of who we are–beloved of God, with strengths and worth that will be untouched by whatever the other may say, held in the depth and density and expanse of Love.  It’s also important to remember that the other is beloved of God, worthy of compassion and dignity and respect.  If we find ourselves unexpectedly in the midst of a difficult conversation, remembering to breathe deeply and allowing silence may help us through.  We agreed that “I don’t know what I think about that,” or “I don’t know what to say about that right now” are much better responses than just babbling on without thinking.

When at all possible, our conversations should include some affirmation of the other, some gift or benefit that we find in them, as all too often conversations can degenerate into fault-finding and criticism.  We agreed that we would like to intentionally create an atmosphere of benefit-finding, rather than fault-finding, in our church, in the words used in Positive Psychology.

While at times difficult, our conversation drew us closer together – “in the Spirit’s tether,” as the hymn says.  It was another experience of the Word made flesh among us.
"Is it worth it?" --Ephesians 6:10-20, John 6: 56-69-- Aug. 26, 2012

"Is it worth it?" --Ephesians 6:10-20, John 6: 56-69-- Aug. 26, 2012

 

Michael Warren, a consultant in youth ministry, describes beautifully the assumption that many young people make about what it takes to be a Christian, but I invite you to listen carefully and see if you don’t think he describes what many–if not most–people who are no longer "young" also believe–

Many of the young people I meet

[he writes] believe religion, particularly Christianity, is an area of life requiring no special skills. Religion, they think, refers to an optional interior attitude. It consists of having nice, loving thoughts about God. The idea that a religion requires a discrete set of practices that forges a distinct way of being in the world–that religious practices, like an athlete’s training, are more geared to developing abilities than a set of thoughts–is something many have never considered. If there is a practice to religion, they think, it consists of a single activity–an activity they reject: attending religious services. In their equation, if you love God, God knows of your love and you don’t have to be part of a religious assembly to show that love. If you do attend church but don’t love God, you’re a hypocrite. So the best way to avoid hypocrisy is to avoid going to church. (Warren, "Christian Skill Set," The Christian Century, Sept. 7, 2004, p. 25)

See what I mean? Lots of people, especially in the West, think the same way–that religion, in particular Christianity, is primarily an interior attitude. It’s about thoughts and "beliefs," rather than actions or skills. Our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters may add taking communion or going to confession or saying the rosary to the set of practices, but even then, my guess is those practices are wrapped up in attending religious services and less to do with developing skills which forge a distinct way of being in the world. In fact, we’re a little leery of people who appear "too religious"–who do things–or won’t do things–in their daily life that may set them apart from others. We’d like everyone to "fit in" and not make anyone too uncomfortable.

"If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable," wrote C.S. Lewis, "I certainly don’t recommend Christianity." Jesus certainly didn’t seem to go out of his way to make people feel comfortable. This long discourse in the 6th chapter of John–which may have been at least as much John’s understanding of what Jesus said than what Jesus said–is a case in point. "For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them." Really, Jesus? No wonder the early Christians were accused of cannibalism!

"What was Jesus thinking?" as one pastor asks. He has just fed over 5000 people with a few barley loaves and a couple of fish, and they are so excited they’d follow him anywhere. Instead of meeting them right where they are, pointing out the lilies in the field maybe, like Jesus does in Luke’s gospel, or continuing to nourish them with food that will sustain them and let them see that this teacher is worth following, maybe with a few beatitudes like Jesus does in Matthew’s gospel, here in John he launches into this long discourse about being the Bread from heaven and about their having to eat his flesh and drink his blood.

"This teaching is difficult," they say in masterful understatement. "Who can accept it?" "Does this teaching offend you?" Jesus asks his disciples. "Uh, yeah. It’s a little creepy." "Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him." "Honestly," my pastor friend writes, "it’s a wonder Jesus had any followers left. Maybe the real miracle in the sixth chapter of John wasn’t that 5000 people were fed at the beginning but that a dozen were still left at the end." (Wallace W. Bubar, The Christian Century, 8/22/12, p. 20)

"This teaching is difficult." "Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them." These words–this image–force an in-your-face confrontation with the incarnation. This is not about thinking nice thoughts about God. This is not a strictly internal thought process. This is about the very life blood that flows through our veins that results in a new way–a distinct way-- of being in the world. If you think that’s comfortable and safe, remember the image that Paul–or probably someone writing in the same spirit–used in his letter to the Ephesians–

Finally,

[he wrote] be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his power. Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

Now this may be a little more militaristic and a little more supernatural than we’re comfortable with. But the image of armor would certainly have had currency in Ephesus, with Roman soldiers in armor all around. And while we may not like to think of them in terms of "cosmic powers of the present darkness, or spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places," we do know that there are forces at work beyond any individual or even collective human power–forces of greed or fear, forces of disease or prejudice, economic forces, geo-political forces. Paul refers to them as the "powers and principalities," and it’s as good a description as any.

When we are up against cancer, or heart disease, or addiction, or any other disease or condition not readily eliminated by a pill or tonic, it can feel like we are engaged in a battle. When no matter how hard we try, no matter how many resumes we hand out or job fairs we attend, and we still cannot get a job, we can feel as though we are up against the powers and principalities. When we see pictures of hungry children, or craters and smoldering vehicles left by bombs or other explosive devises, when we watch glaciers melting and polar bears stranded on shrinking ice floes, when wild fires rage and devour homes and forests and everything else in their paths, or rain and wind batter coastlines and even river lines, we can believe in powers and principalities over which we have no control. Heck, there are quieter days when it can feel like we’re up against forces that simply are too strong for us–in frustration with our children or elderly parents, when our bodies just won’t behave or work the way we wish they would, when the bills just keep coming and the balance in the checkbook keeps going down, when we find it hard to find energy or meaning in life. "Beloved, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of God’s power...Put on the whole armor of God..."

The armor described, except for the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of the Lord, is all defensive–the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness (or right relationship with God), shoes to help us preach the gospel of peace, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation. None of those can take on any real meaning if they’re just abstract, interior thoughts. When you’re up against powers and principalities, thoughts will too easily disappear. It has to be in your blood, so to speak, in your muscles. The rhythms of worship and prayer, living eucharistically–that is, giving of yourself and recognizing that your life depends on others, the practice of fasting–either from food or other forms of consuming–all hone our skills and abilities to act differently in the world. Doing the work to sort through all the layers of limitations, fears, and constructed self-images that we’ve layered on and around our true, inner core takes time and effort. "The whole armor of God is a matter of worship, ethics, character, prayer and lifestyle," writes Bruce Epperly, which then become "resources to creatively respond to–and confront–the present darkness...Our primary protection in a world of threat is prayerful God-awareness and constant alert, being spiritually centered." (The Adventurous Lectionary, 8/21/12)

"Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them," Jesus said. There is real intimacy in this kind of relationship that is able to remain with us, even in and through death, both our final death and the little deaths that we experience everyday, in the loss of a relationship, even in the letting go of a child who moves on to the next stage in life–whether that’s a new school or college or marriage or the service–, or the little deaths we might experience in illness or incapacity, in giving up a home, in the loss of the job. "Those who take in my life [which is what blood represented] abide in me and I in them."

And Jesus knew that the giving of his blood and flesh would not only come through the meal that we celebrate in communion but also, especially, in his death. The way to "eternal life," which is both now and in the days to come, is through death, through the giving of oneself, in the giving up of the ego, or one’s selfish desires, including the desire to be in control. "This is a difficult teaching," they said. You bet.

When some of his disciples left and no longer went around with him, Jesus did not try to make them stay. He knew the way was difficult, and that no one could be forced to follow. "Among you there are some who do not believe." I know that this is not what you expected the way of truth or salvation to be. This is not what you wanted in a messiah. It is when those in whom we place such hope–whether as messiah or political candidate–when they do not live up to what we thought they were going to do, that we feel betrayed. Judas couldn’t believe Jesus was who he said he was–the Son of Humanity–because Jesus was determined to go through death, not around it, and so Judas felt betrayed. Surely the messiah doesn’t have to die. Others simply left. It’s not clear whether Jesus felt betrayed here. One commentator writes, "Jesus is not the victim of misguided hopes, who at the end dies disillusioned because good does not triumph over evil. All along, with eyes wide open to the presence of unbelief and destruction, he follows the plans given him by [God]." (Texts for Preaching, Year B, p. 483)

Jesus asked the twelve remaining, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life." You have the words of eternal life–eternal life, right here and now. "Could these words [of eternal life] be the vibrations of divine creativity," asks Bruce Epperly, vibrations from "the big bang and the evolution of the universe? Could these words be life-changing affirmations whose repetition creates the songlines of our lives, opening us to hope and energy despite life’s challenges?" (Op cit.) Could these words be the whole parable that Jesus’ life told and continues to tell–of Divine Love living in human flesh, healing, teaching, connecting us, suffering, dying, and rising into new life?

To whom can we go other than this One, this Way, which, deep down, if we truly are honest with ourselves, ring true? Have we found such truth, such strength, such hope, such peace in any other way? In the way of self-centeredness, the way of money or power or stuff or success? To whom can we go in the midst of cancer or loss or heartbreak or discouragement? "Lord, you have the words of eternal life. To whom can we go?"

There are practices, there are skills we can acquire to help us live this way, centered and grounded in the love of God–practices of gratitude and forgiveness, practices of prayer and meditation, practices of taking care of our own and others’ bodies, practices of caring for the earth and her creatures, practices of worship and study and eucharist and healing. But all these practices–all these efforts–really just make us more susceptible to grace. "Be strong in the Lord" might more accurately be translated, "be made strong"–it is God who gives the strength. It is the Source of Life who courses through our veins and limbs that keeps us in divine intimacy. It is ultimately the mystery of Love that transforms bread and wine, that transforms our lives, that confounds our sensibilities and our logic, that even offends us at times. But it is Love that walks beside us and within us and before us, so that even in the present darkness, we may find the way. May these words be strength, and hope, and courage for us for the living of these days. Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Transitions

Transitions

Wed., Aug. 22, 2012 – Every three years the lectionary, or cycle of Scripture readings, comes around to Ephesians 6:10-20 on the last Sunday in August. The heading of this section in many Bibles is, "The Whole Armor of God," for Paul, or whoever wrote the Letter to the Ephesians, talks about "putting on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil."

...Stand, therefore, [he writes] and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God."

 

It sounds so heavy here at the end of summer! Not to mention hot and stifling if you have the image of medieval armor in mind. I’m looking for something a little lighter, a little more gentle, as I reluctantly let go of summer and turn September’s calendar page over. Having just spent all last week away for my Certificate in Positive Psychology course, I’m still catching up on stacks of mail and e-mails.

But "Paul" is right to give us this pep talk. After all, what a luxury it is to have vacation at all, when I think of all those who live everyday hand to mouth, juggling several jobs, never seeming to be able to make ends meet. How grateful I am for this time of rest and renewal! How grateful I am to have work that is meaningful and (mostly!) enjoyable to get back to!

And then there’s the "armor" Paul is urging us to put on–truth and righteousness (or right relationship with God), readiness to preach the gospel of peace, faith, salvation (being "saved" from aimlessness and separation from God), and the Spirit. What a gift to be able to "put on" these things, to be offered these things to accompany us on the journey. And then there’s that first sentence in this whole section, that’s not to be forgotten–"Finally, [or firstly], be strong in the Lord and in the strength of God’s power." It’s not our effort or power–it’s God’s working through us.

So, don’t just "put on" but "open up to...," "empty out to..." the power and strength of God. "I can do all things through the One who loves us." Off we go!
"Positive Psychology–So Far..."-- Proverbs 9:1-6, Philippians 4:4-9--
Aug. 19, 2012

"Positive Psychology–So Far..."-- Proverbs 9:1-6, Philippians 4:4-9-- Aug. 19, 2012

My Certificate in Positive Psychology course began online a month ago, and this past week I completed the first of two 5-day residential immersion at the Kripalu Center in Lenox, MA. "Immersion" is a good word for it, as we spent over 6 hours a day in class, drinking in as much wisdom and information as possible, though it often felt like trying to drink from a fire hydrant. It was very difficult to turn my brain off at night, besides the fact that I was in a dorm room with 21 other women, so I would have to say that sleeping wasn’t the highlight of the week!

At any rate, I am still dripping from the water, finding puddles in my shoes when I walk, hearing the water sloshing in my ears when I turn my head; so I’ll try to give you just a few sips for now, with no promises about how organized or coherent this sounds.

"Wisdom has built her house," we read in the book of Proverbs. "She has hewn her seven pillar. She has slaughtered her animals, she has mixed her wine, she has also set her table. She has sent out her servant girls, she calls from the highest places in the town, ‘You that are simple, turn in here!’ To those without sense she says, ‘Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight."

The Wisdom tradition runs through all of the great world religions, wisdom about how to live, gleaned from what works, what seems to help people successfully make their way through life with its inevitable times of difficulty and ease. Here in the book of Proverbs, Wisdom is personified as female–Sophia–a take-no-prisoners–don’t-be-stupid kind of woman. She is not to be messed with. Thus, the hewing of pillars, the slaughtering of animals, the mixing of the wine and setting of the table, the piercing call from the highest places in town–"Hey, you! Don’t be fools! Come have dinner with me! Give up your foolish ways. Learn to live wisely."

Within the Christian tradition, Jesus is seen as the incarnation of Sophia, a wonderful infusion of the feminine into the masculine, the Word–God’s Word of Wisdom–become flesh. And doesn’t Jesus sound a bit like Sophia in Matthew 11, as Peterson paraphrases it– "Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life...Walk with me and work with me–watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly." (The Message, Mt. 11:28-30)

The Wisdom traditions uncover the universal in the particular, the sacred in the flesh. Positive Psychology both learns from and informs these religious traditions. In 1998, Martin Seligman & colleagues, at the University of Pennsylvania, wrote that before World War II, the field of American psychology had 3 objectives: 1. Cure mental illness, 2. Make relatively untroubled people happier, and 3. Study genius and high talent. After World War II, the first objective–to cure mental illness–was the only one getting funding or research. As noble and compelling as that objective is–making the troubled less miserable–that still involves only somewhere around 30% of the population. Seligman urged his colleagues in the field to remember the other 2 objectives–to make relatively untroubled people happier and to study genius and high talent. Thus, the field of Positive Psychology, which of course built on the work of others who had come before, came into new life, standing alongside and enhancing other forms of psychology.

So, how do we become happier? What is happiness, as defined in Positive Psychology? Seligman writes that it is pleasure, or positive emotions, plus engagement, plus meaning. (Seligman, Parks, & Steen, [2004] Balanced Psychology and a Full Life. The Royal Society, 1379-81). We all know plenty of people–much of western culture, in fact–who pursue happiness through pleasure. They seek that pleasure through money, power, possessions, celebrity, food, drink, that sort of thing, all of which can make you happy–for a while, but it does not last. Engagement adds intention, mindfulness, a sense of being present, and meaning can give us connection to something greater than ourselves, a sense of purpose. All three, these positive psychologists say, lead to a "full life." (Ibid.)

"I came that you might have life," Jesus said, "and that abundantly." "The glory of God is the human being fully alive," Irenaeus said back in the 4th c. CE. "Fully alive." Positive emotions and negative emotions, as we talked about last week. "Be angry," as Paul said, "but do not sin–do not let it separate you from God or one another." Anger, grief, discouragement, jealousy, all the range of what we might call "negative emotions" are part of the human experience. As I mentioned last week, and as our teacher Tal Ben-Shahar says, the only people who don’t experience these are the psychopaths and the dead. Emotions are not right or wrong, they just are; they are a-moral. It’s what we do with them, our behavior, that can be moral or immoral. The human being fully alive experiences the full range of emotions, just like Jesus did, and in fact research shows that allowing ourselves to experience negative emotions rather than denying or suppressing them actually helps us to fully experience the more positive emotions. They all come through the same pipeline, so to speak.

So positive psychology focuses on what contributes to our well-being, psychologically, physically, even spiritually, and does that through evidence-based research. For example, instead of asking, Why do some kids in this inner city school fail, Popsitive Psychology asked, What is it about those students who, despite all the challenges and obstacles before them, nevertheless thrive and become successful? How can we learn what works, what makes people resilient? Another study compared the ratio of the number of positive experiences to the number of negative experiences the participants had in a period of time–the "positivity ratio." Those who had less than 3 positive experiences for every one negative experience perceived themselves as doing "ok.. But 3 to 1 seemed to be the tipping point. Anything more than 3:1–even 3.1 or .2-- had a significant impact not only on how well people felt about their experiences, but also how successful they were in meeting goals, and in levels of their immune systems.

And the thing is, it doesn’t take all that much to improve that ratio of 3 to one, either by reducing the number of negative experiences–maybe by avoiding negative or critical people, taking a break from depressing news media (probably a real challenge for us in this upcoming election season), that sort of thing–or increasing the number of positive experiences, like writing down 5 things for which you’re grateful every night, listening to music, dancing, spending more time with a good friend or loved one, that sort of thing. After 3 to 1, the level of well-being continues to rise–until you reach 11:1, when you start to get manic, losing touch with reality.

"Beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things," Paul wrote in the letter to the Philippians. What we focus on literally helps to create our reality, and when we appreciate the good, the good appreciates (just like stocks used to do).

 

Again, we do not deny or overlook suffering or negative experiences. But by focusing on the good, starting with the good in ourselves, we are able to find the strength and context for dealing with suffering–our own and others’.

Positive psychology is based in scientific research. The Wisdom traditions of the world’s religions are based in research in life--observing life and what works. But knowledge is not enough. "I know the good but I do not do it," Paul moaned in his letter to the Romans. Information is not enough to change behavior, if we’re looking for transformation. Our Second Congregational Church t-shirts claim, "Changing lives since 1865." I have no doubt that is true, but unless we not only "believe" in God or in Christ, but "believe into," as we talked about last week, unless we connect our lives into a new way living, unless we "put on Christ," take on the Christ consciousness, we will not experience transformation. Religion has known this–that knowledge and information alone are not enough--, and so ritual-- habits-- is an important part of having our lives transformed. "We first make our habits," wrote the British poet John Dryden, "and then our habits make us."

Our tradition has given us rituals–the ritual of coming together each week, to be reminded of who we are and Whose we are; the ritual of prayer, of sharing communion, rituals of breaking bread together around tables, rituals of regular giving of time, talent, treasure; rituals of daily reading of Scripture or other Wisdom texts. But of course it’s only a ritual if we do it regularly, when it becomes part of the flow our lives. Did you brush your teeth this morning because you thought, "Let’s see–what would I like to do this morning? Is this a tooth-brushing kind of day? Will brushing my teeth make me happy?" Or did you brush your teeth because you always brush your teeth when you get up, or after you eat, or before you go out of the house in the morning. It’s just something you do. And it actually does make you healthier (which in turn may make you happier). But it’s a ritual, something you do everyday, at certain triggers, at certain times, without a whole lot of internal debate. To be transformative, we must bring intention to our rituals.

So, positive psychology can reinforce our transformation efforts, our change efforts, by telling us what has been found to improve people’s sense of well-being, their experience of happiness. And may of these "interventions," so to speak, these relatively small changes in the way we live our lives, can make a huge difference in the way we experience our lives. I’ll be sharing some of these with you over the course of this year and beyond.

Positive Psychology focuses on 5 areas, with the acronym SHARP–Strengths, Health, Affect (or emotions), Relationships, and Purpose. It fits in nicely with the two Great Commandments Jesus spoke of: You shall love the Lord your God with all your Heart, Soul, Mind and Strength, you shall love your Neighbor as Yourself. Transformation begins with us.

 

So, for today, maybe you could jot down a few things you might do to increase your "positivity ratio"–the number of positive experiences compared to the negative experiences; some practice you might try daily for the next couple of weeks as an experiment. Maybe look for 5 things you’re grateful for and write them down each night. Maybe take 3 deep, full breaths before you get out of bed in the morning and thank God for the day. Maybe call or write a dear friend you haven’t spoken to for awhile. Maybe listen to some music that feeds your soul, and/or makes you want to dance–whether it’s Bach or Basie or the Beatles or Beyonce. And then dance–either around the room or just in your chair. Pick one or two practices. Try it daily for 2 weeks–that’s all it takes to begin to rewire the neural pathways.

"Beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." There is so much more to learn and share. Wisdom is calling us. Together, may we learn the unforced rhythms of grace and walk in the way of insight and transformation. I’m looking forward to taking this journey with you.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 
"Community Communication"-- Ephesians 4:25-5:2 --Aug. 12, 2012

"Community Communication"-- Ephesians 4:25-5:2 --Aug. 12, 2012

"Amazon.com currently lists over [75,000] religious titles that touch on the subject of anger." (Paul Marshall, cited [and updated] by Kate Huey, Weekly Seeds, 8/12/12) 75,000! That’s a lot of holy anger!

I know of–and you probably do too–too many faith communities torn apart by conflict and anger. It’s true of families as well, torn apart by emotional and/or physical anger and violence. Then there’s road rage and the more extreme forms of anger that get acted out in shootings and bombings like we’ve witnessed all too frequently in recent weeks. Anger can be a terrible, and terribly destructive, emotion.

"Be angry," Paul writes, "but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil." "Be angry," Paul says. Thank goodness he says that! Because, as Tal Ben-Shahar, the teacher of my Positive Psychology course says, the only people who don’t feel anger–or sadness, or envy, or any of the other emotions we might think of as "bad"–are either psychopaths or dead. "Be angry," Paul writes, "but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil." Don’t just let your anger fester, don’t deny it, and don’t compound its destructiveness by beating yourself up for feeling it; but deal with it. In the words of positive psychology, actively accept it-- allow yourself to be human, and then choose a course of action that will honor your humanity.

One way of thinking about that is lifting our anger up to the light of God, exposing it to that Light to be examined, instead of "making room for the devil," as Paul says, or allowing it to worm its way into misshapen forms that will inevitably come up to bite us. We know that, paradoxically, suppressing emotions only intensifies them. So, "be angry, but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil." Talk to someone appropriate about what is making you angry, journal about it, see if there’s something underneath it, like fear, write a letter about it that you don’t send–unless after sufficient time and cooling it feels right and helpful. When you can do it reasonably and lovingly, speak directly to the person (if it is a person) who has made you angry. "So then," as Paul writes, "putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; so not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil."

This instruction about anger comes when the writer of the letter to the Ephesians–either Paul or someone following in his steps– has just finished talking about setting aside the old self and putting on the new self in Christ. "So then," he says, getting very practical and specific, live together like this–speak the truth to each other in love, be angry but don’t let it cause you to sin; don’t steal but work honestly so that you’ll have enough to give away to others. Did you read the article in the Banner this week about the young people involved in the gardening project? The best part about it, one girl said, was being able to grow enough food so that they could give to others who were hungry. "Work honestly with [your] own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy."

"Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear." Do you know people who are always finding fault? Always chipping away at other people? Try to be a benefit finder (another term from Positive Psychology). You’d be amazed at how much better you’ll feel if you can make someone feel better about themselves, if you take the time to thank someone for something they did or said or are. You’ll feel better, not just them. As it turns out, our mothers were right–sending a thank you note really does make a difference, not just for Aunt Sally but for you too, even if you really can’t stand the fold-out sun hat she sent you for your graduation. Just the process of looking for something positive to say about it and expressing it to her is beneficial to you and her; "for we are members of one another," as Paul says.

"And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God," he goes on, "with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption." What a wonderful, poignant image that is–"do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God." I imagine that the Holy Spirit of God is grieved over this week’s shooting in the Sikh temple...and last week’s shooting in the Colorado movie theater. I think God’s Holy Spirit is grieved over car bombs and suicide bombs. Surely the Holy Spirit of God is grieved over our poisoning of the air and water, over habitats of wild and wondrous creatures being destroyed by our selfishness, over our warring madness. And closer to home, I’m sure I have grieved the Holy Spirit of God by closing myself off from certain people, by playing it too safe for Love’s intentions, by not loving myself enough or, sometimes, too much. "Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption"– which is, at least, today if not also some future time.

"Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you." Be kind. What a central, underrated trait kindness is! "Be kind," John Watson wrote, " for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." The late Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue, writes of kindness as being foundational–

There is a kindness that dwells deep down in things; it presides everywhere, often in the places we least expect. The world can be harsh and negative, but if we remain generous and patient, kindness inevitably reveals itself. Something deep in the human soul seems to depend on the presence of kindness; something instinctive in us expects it, and once we sense it we are able to trust and open ourselves...

The word

kindness has a gentle sound that seems to echo the presence of compassionate goodness. When someone is kind to you, you feel understood and seen. There is no judgment or harsh perception directed toward you. Kindness has gracious eyes; it is not small-minded or competitive; it wants nothing back for itself. Kindness strikes a resonance with the depths of your own heart; it also suggests that your vulnerability, though somehow exposed, is not taken advantage of; rather, it has become an occasion for dignity and empathy. Kindness casts a different light, an evening light that has the depth of color and patience to illuminate what is complex and rich in difference. To Bless the Space Between Us, pp. 185-6

And then finally, perhaps most impossibly, the writer urges, "Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Be imitators of God?! Really? Isn’t that dangerous? Isn’t hubris the flaw of trying to act like you are God?

How can we measure up to "imitating God"? This is crazy-making talk for those of us with perfectionistic tendencies. But Paul elsewhere talks about "going on to perfection," striving on to perfection, which for him is "energizing, enabling him to press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus," as he writes in his letter to the Philippians. (3:14). "I may have fallen down this time," one preacher confesses, " but I’m goin’ on. I may not be perfect yet, but I’m goin’ on." (Janet Wolf)

"Be imitators of God, as beloved children–which we are–and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." We are "saved"–we become who we truly are, beloved children of God–not by effort but by grace, "not effortlessly but willingly," as one commentator writes (Joel E. Kok, cited in Huey, op cit.). By the grace of God, we already are beloved children of God. It is for us to freely claim that identity and live into it.

"So then," as Paul begins this passage, so then, if we are to let go of the old self and put on the new self in Christ, live together like each of you are Christ to each other. Go ahead, practice it. That’s what the church is for. Speak the truth to each other in love. Experience the full range of human emotions– anger, grief, joy, sorrow, jealousy, admiration, sympathy–be fully human as Jesus was human, but do not sin–do not let those emotions distort and separate you from God or one another. "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you...and be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us..."

The amazing Olympic athletes we’ve been watching these past two weeks would be the first to tell you that, if you want to be like them, or even a tiny bit more like them than you are now, you have to practice, to train, to focus on that goal. It’s the same with wanting to be like Jesus, or, if you will, wanting to be your truest Self, heck–even wanting to be a little better–you have to practice. The great Catholic theologian Karl Rahner said that it’s better to say we’re becoming Christian than to say we are Christian. Being Christian–being a true follower of Christ, following Jesus’ Way-- is something we grow into. It’s a lifelong process, maybe even extending into the next life. We go on to perfection, to wholeness, to our true Self.

So, finally, here’s a prayer of confession – of truth-telling– about anger that might be a model for a prayer that could be helpful in lifting up our anger, or other hard, potentially destructive emotions, to the life-giving Light of God–

Almighty God, in your Word you instruct, ‘Be angry, but do not sin. Do not let the sun go down on your anger.’ We admit that we have fallen into sin on account of our anger, and we have held on to our rage far longer than a day. In anger we have said and done things which we are ashamed to name out loud, but that are all known to you. We have longed to strike back when we have been hurt. Rather than work through anger with the people involved, we have gossiped behind their backs. We have allowed unresolved anger to break up relationships, to undermine community cooperation and the unity among Christians.

Forgive us for what is past, and help us forgive others as we have been forgiven by you. Insofar as it depend on us, help us live in peace with all our neighbors. We pray in the name of your Son Jesus Christ, Amen. (Sourcebook of Worship Resources, vol 2,, p. 81)

And amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Noticing, and Being Grateful

Noticing, and Being Grateful

August 8, 2012--I am now over 3 weeks into my Positive Psychology course, through Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. It’s a primarily on-line course, though next week will be one of the two week-long residencies at Kripalu in Lenox, MA (no blog posting next week). There are on-line lectures and reading assignments, along with reflection papers and online discussion groups. Already there have been lots and lots of "ah ha!" moments for me, lots of interesting new information, and lots of suggestions for practical ways to increase the positive in one’s life while reducing the effects of the negative.

One practice that has been transforming my week already is keeping a Gratitude journal. I know, I know, it sounds very "Oprah-esque," and Oprah does, apparently, keep a Gratitude journal herself, but it’s based on research on how we can actually re-wire our brains to focus more on the positive. Gratitude, it turns out, is the single most effective emotion for transforming one’s outlook.

 

Research showed that of a group divided into 4 –one group recorded 5 things they were grateful for each night, one group recorded 5 hassles they’d experienced that day, one group simply noted events, and the 4th was the control, not asked to record anything. After 6 months, the group who kept a gratitude journal were significantly more happy, more healthy, more successful by a number of objective and subjective standards.

SO, I invite you to join me in this practice, even for a week. I think you’ll find that, knowing you’ll need to write down at least 5 things (or people) that night, during the day you’ll be on the lookout–Oh, look at that beautiful play of sunlight and shadow on the lawn! Isn’t that a beautiful bird song? After an unexpected but wonderful conversation with a friend, I noted that I wanted to remember to write that friend’s name in my journal that night.

As our instructor, Tal Ben-Shahar says, you go from being not just a "benefit-finder" but a "benefit-seeker." What we focus on shapes the way we see–and experience–the world.

There will be lots more reflections on this course in the weeks and months to come. Bad things do happen to good people–to all kinds of people, for that matter–but there are ways of learning from and responding to those bad things that make the difference between being destroyed by them or growing from them. I hope this course will not only have beneficial effects on my life, but also on those with whom my life intersects.
"The Bread We Need"--John 6:24-35--Aug. 5, 2012

"The Bread We Need"--John 6:24-35--Aug. 5, 2012

 

It’s hard to find a straightforward, simple conversation with Jesus in the Gospel of John. Nicodemus tried that late one night and ended up talking about being born again or born from above and how do you do that when you’re a grown man? Or, the Samaritan woman at the well, who was shocked when Jesus asked her for a drink of water, out there in plain sight, in public, and he ended up talking about giving her living water, so that she would never be thirsty again.

And now here, in this morning’s reading, the crowd comes to Jesus because the day before he had just fed five thousand of them with five barley loaves and two fish. Jesus knows they’ve gone to great pains to find him–gotten in boats and crossed the Sea of Galilee– because they think they’re going to get another free lunch,–and who doesn’t want that?-- but he also knows that they’ll never really feel full, never be satisfied, with that bread. "Do not work for the food that perishes," he tells them, "but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God has set his seal." Understandably, genuinely, they ask him, "What must we do to perform the works of God?" and Jesus answers, "This is the work of God, that you believe in the one whom God has sent." They refer back to Moses, who gave them manna to eat in the wilderness, but Jesus reminds them it wasn’t Moses, but rather, God who gave them bread and is giving it right now. "Sir," they say, "give us this bread always," and Jesus says, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."

These are not transcripts of tape recordings of the words coming out of Jesus’ mouth, but rather over half a century’s distillation and interpretation of teachings and experiences with the One who reveals so much of God that his face and his voice have become the very face and voice of God for John’s community. Who Jesus was and is for them is the very embodiment of the Wisdom that keeps the Chaos Monsters at bay; that gives them strength and hope in the midst of persecution and peril; that reassures them that even in the face of suffering and death, Love abides in and with and among them, able to bring life in abundance, even beyond death, deeply weaving them together and into the very fabric of creation.

Indeed, it could be said that John’s whole gospel is a discussion of who Jesus is and what it means to have faith in him. "I am the bread of life," Jesus says in John’s gospel, intentionally using that phrase "I am," which was the name God told Moses to use when referring to the One who sent him. "I am who I am." "I am light in the darkness," Jesus says elsewhere in John, "I am the gate to safe pasture, I am the good shepherd who sacrifices self for the sheep, I am the resurrection and the life who conquers death, I am the true vine, I am living water that quenches your deepest thirst, I am the bread of life that satisfies your deepest hunger." "Sir, give us this bread always," the crowd says. "Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water," the Samaritan woman says to Jesus at the well. Where can we find that bread and that water?

The people who came to Jesus looking for bread were no doubt hungry–the empty stomach, never having enough kind of hungry. There are children in Haiti and the Sudan and third-world parts of our own nation who cry themselves to sleep each night because they are hungry. They eat dirt to ease the pains, and then end up with more pain. "There are people in the world so hungry," Gandhi said, "that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread." We must not hear Jesus’ saying, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry" as a dismissal of our responsibility to feed the hungry, to work for systems that assure that all people have enough to eat. In fact, in the research to find out as much as we can about the historical Jesus, it is his insistence upon sharing table fellowship–real meals-- with everyone, his radical inclusion of all without regard to status or ability to contribute, that stands the test of time. It is what distinguished the early Christian communities from other groups–that they fed not only their own poor but the poor of the city. For Jesus, there was no split between spiritual hunger and physical hunger. "There are people in the world so hungry that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread."

But he knew how to feed all those hungers. We, too often, mis-identify our hunger and try to feed our hungers with all sorts of things that will always leave us wanting. Mother Teresa said, "There is more hunger for love and appreciation in this world than for bread." "Money, sex, war, fame and power are only a few ways that we try to fulfill the deepest desires of human nature," one commentator writes. Shopping, gaming, eating, drinking, drugging, and other addictions are other ways. Perhaps you have your own personal method for filling that ache in your soul.

The French mathematician Blaise Pascal wrote that our insatiable desires are like an abyss that must filled, but can only be filled by God. "There is a God-shaped hole in each one of us." Augustine famously wrote in his Confessions, "Thou has made us for Thyself; and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee." "I am the bread of life," Jesus said. "Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty."

"Believing in" was and is not just an intellectual agreement, like "I believe that the earth is round," or "I believe in the force of gravity." It doesn’t matter whether you believe in gravity or not. It simply is, and you can live your life taking it into consideration or not. The only thing is, if you choose to jump off a building in defiance of gravity, you will no doubt simply prove its existence when you end up in a lifeless heap on the ground. "This is the work of God," Jesus said, "that you believe in the One whom God has sent."

"Believing in," or really "into," as the word implies, was more than intellectual in Jesus’ culture. It meant loyalty, commitment, solidarity. "Believe into me. Stick with me, no matter what." It was the social glue." (John Pilch, The Cultural World of Jesus, Year A)

So what does that mean for us? "What must we do to perform the works of God?" What does it mean to "stick with Jesus?" Well, for one thing, Jesus would be quick to say that it is God who provides the bread and Jesus is the conduit. It is really "believing through" Jesus in God, if you will. It is really the work of God, that is, what God does, to "stick with us," to "believe into us." Regardless of what we do, God is for us. Believing that, like believing in gravity, allows us to align ourselves with that power, with that sustenance, with that healing, with that connection.

What we come to believe into through Jesus is that we are all connected, all inter-dependent, and all in relationship with God. When we live apart from that reality, that promise, nothing will satisfy us. When we live into that reality, "aware of our connections with God and one another, every meal is Eucharistic," as Bruce Epperly writes. "Connected with divine abundance, there is no need to horde; no need for injustice, manipulation, or marginalization. We experience the peace that comes from connecting our well-being with the well-being of others, not only our community but the whole universe. Nourished by divine bread, we become large-spirited, having the mind of Christ that embraces the body of Christ not only in the church but in the world–in all its wondrous variety." (Adventurous Lectionary, 8/5/12)

"I am the bread of life," Jesus said, with all the layers and nuances of what "bread" means for us. A religious community of sisters who live on a farm, producing food for themselves and others, wrote this affirmation of what they believe this means for them.--

The heart of our participation in the furtherance of the adventure of Life is food. We understand that we arise from and are held within the arms of a Eucharistic Universe; all energy exchange is costly–individual life is given, in part or in whole, in order for other individuals to sustain life for a time. This is a holy, sacrificial and sacramental exchange that we honor and celebrate, and which is clearly reflected in our Christian heritage. At the same time, eating is a joyful experience, suffused with thanksgiving and celebration. As we partake of the great banquet of food offered by Earth, we enjoy the delights of this bounty.

(Melrose Customary, cited by Suzanne Guthrie in Soulworkfor 8/5/12)

"This is the joyful feast of the people of God." We come remembering those who are hungry for bread to fill their stomachs. We come, perhaps more aware of what our hunger really is. We come, living out the reality that we are all part of one loaf, which is a gift of God. We come for the Bread we need, and pray that we might also become the bread God needs to feed all God’s children. Come, let us keep the feast.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 
Sunday, August 2nd

Sunday, August 2nd

 

 All are welcome to the Communion Table and to worship at Second Congregational Church, UCC this Sunday morning at 10 oclock.   Rev. Mary Lee-Clarks communion meditation is entitled, The Bread We Need, based on the readings from John and Ephesians.   Special music is offered by Deborah Perkins. Nursery care is provided during service. Fellowship and refreshment follow service in Webster Hall.

 

Second Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, welcomes all people of faith or in search of faith, without regard to age, race, sex, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation. Our building is wheelchair-accessible, and hearing-assistance devices are available. For more information, call the church office at 442-2559 or explore this website further.

 
"Calm in the Midst of the Storm" --Mark 4:35-41-- June 24, 2012

"Calm in the Midst of the Storm" --Mark 4:35-41-- June 24, 2012

After a week like this, with the heat and a school year that seems never to end, many people’s thoughts turn to the seaside, to visions of a house by the water, where the breezes blow and where watching the waves roll in is meditative and calming. Moving up the beach as the tide rolls in is about as much work as anyone has inclination to do.

In contrast to that, of course, is this other image of the sea which we encounter in today’s gospel reading. Here, one of the common, sudden, violent storms comes up on the Sea of Galilee and threatens to swamp and even overturn the boat which the disciples are desperately trying to maneuver and in which Jesus is sleeping in the back.

It’s a story that’s found in some version in all four gospels, so there is obviously "something so vital" (Kate Huey, Weekly Seeds, 6/24/12) in it that the early Christian community thought the gospel would be incomplete without it. Still, it’s problematic. Are we to take it literally? Are we to believe that Jesus was able to calm the wind and waves with a word? Or, if we can’t swallow that, must we simply dismiss it as unbelievable?

"A storm at sea," writes one interpreter, "is the most expressive sense of chaos that sea-faring people know. There is literally nothing stable to grasp when one’s entire ship is engulfed in wind and waves. Anything that might offer stability–like a large stone cropping out of the sea–is a threat more than a help in this kind of trouble. Truly, everything is in flux." (D. Mark Davis, Left Behind and Loving It, 6/18/12) The sea, in Biblical terms, represented the overwhelming forces of chaos, introduced in the very first verse of Genesis, when "the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep [the te home], while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters." That’s chaos.

"In Jewish tradition," writes another, "only God can still the raging sea." (Alyce McKenzie, Patheos, Edgy Exegesis, 6/14/12) So, the disciples’ question, "Who then is this that even the wind and the sea obey him?" is really the central question and point of this story.

"Whenever I feel out of control," one woman writes, "I clean out my car. I...vacuum...the floor mats of my car, my Dirt Devil making all the crumbs and miscellaneous debris disappear. I clear... out all the dry cleaner receipts and spare change out of the middle console and wipe...down the dash with a damp cloth. I have a full tank and a clean car. Within that little world, there is order..." (Alyce McKenzie, ibid.) I, personally, tend to clean the bathroom, but you may have your own personal go-to plan for dealing with chaos.

"Mayhem is Coming" is the All-State Insurance Company’s most recent ad campaign, featuring actor Dean Winter as "Mayhem," crashing your car, distracting your dog while the thieves sack your house, all those unexpected and disastrous things that can happen in daily life. Aren’t you glad you’ve got All-State? the reassuring voice asks.

Mark’s community certainly knew what chaos felt like, with the Roman Empire upending any sense of security or predictability, with knocks on the door at night and arrests of Christians at the least sign of trouble. "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" may have crossed their minds far beyond that night out on the Sea of Galilee, as even now, some 30 years later, they felt "storm-tossed, facing persecution, and feeling small against powerful and unfriendly forces." (Huey, op cit.) There was no "all-state" or "all-empire" insurance then.

Maybe you’ve felt the same way–storm-tossed by bills that keep coming, overwhelmed by the loss of your usual moorings, the loss of loved ones or health or job or independence or abilities or home. "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" "A storm at sea," as one writer points out, "is perfectly illustrative of a situation when it seems that all our possible moorings are far away and we are helpless against the elements." (Davis, op cit.)

Then, "[Jesus] woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’" or, as my favorite translation says, "Avast, ye scurvy elements!" "Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’" They didn’t know which they were more afraid of then–the wind and the waves or this man who could sleep through the storm and then wake up and still it. "Who the heck (or worse) is this?" they asked, invoking perhaps something of a curse for protection. "They were afraid [Alyce McKenzie writes] because Jesus is, as poet Mary Oliver has written,

tender and luminous and demanding

as he always was–

a thousand times more frightening

than the killer sea.(Ibid.)

Who then is this?!

Courage is fear that has said its prayers, someone has said. "Why are you afraid?" Jesus asked them. "Have you still no faith?" But can we not be afraid and faithful? There are certainly some things that should make us afraid–after all, we’re hard-wired to respond to fear, with adrenaline, to fight or flee, but Quaker author Parker Palmer "believes that fear is a contemporary cultural trait at work in every area of our common life" (Mitzi Minor, The Power of Mark’s Story, p. 68)– the politics of fear, the economy of fear, religions of fear. "Fear, says Palmer, has become the very air we breathe." (Ibid.) "Full catastrophe living" is the way Jon Kabat-Zinn describes it, overloading our biological systems of dealing with fear and stress.

The disciples were "filled with great awe" (or greatly a-feared, as one translator puts it [Davis]) "and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’" This is a different kind of fear, the fear of the Lord, as the Bible puts it, perhaps a fear that, as Kathleen Norris suggests, we have lost. "There is much fear of fear itself in the contemporary landscape," she says. "We’ve lost the ancient sense of fear as reverence and wonder and so ‘are left with only the negative connotations of the word.’" (cited in Minor, p. 78) In the presence of the Divine our ragged edges are exposed. We become aware of how we might still need to change or grow, and change, like chaos, is a scary thing.

But we have choices with what we do with our fear, which we will all face. That is the real power of the story of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, when he was "distressed and agitated," that is, afraid of what was to come next. One choice was self-preservation, the other choice was self-transcendence. "One choice is surely safer and easier," writes one commentator, "But it is limiting. The other choice is frightening, but involves being part of what God is doing in the world." (Minor, p. 82)

"Who is this, then, that even the wind and sea obey him?" Who is this, indeed! Did you notice that little phrase toward the beginning of this story, when the disciples took Jesus with them in the boat, "just as he was"? What does that mean? Exhausted? Not dressed in the usual sea-faring clothes? "They took him just as he was."

And then Jesus fell asleep in the back of the boat, on a cushion, no less, oblivious apparently to the storm raging around them. Or maybe he was "just as he was," at peace with the way things were, just as they were. There is an utter "ok-ness" about Jesus, a profound trust that "all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well," as Julian of Norwich wrote in the 12th c. "Courage is fear that has said its prayers." I know for myself that when I fell particularly grounded, when I’ve been on retreat, perhaps, is when I really notice it–I am so much less fearful. The usual traffic or travel or whatever typical worries do not set off all the alarms and buttons that they so often do. "They took him, just as he was,...and he fell asleep in the back of the boat, on a cushion."

Crossing the sea that night was Jesus’ idea. "On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’" What those of us who don’t know our geography well miss in that suggestion is that on the other side of the lake or Sea of Galilee was Gentile territory. At the end of the journey, even if it had been a smooth passage, was otherness, people "not like us." And that’s scary too.

Vermont author Frederick Buechner, as usual, responds to this fearful journey across to the Other with great insight and wisdom for us –

Go

[he says]... Go for God’s sake, and for your own sake too, and for the world’s sake. Climb into your little tub of a boat and keep going. [Christ will be with us.] Christ sleeps in the deepest selves of all of us, and...in whatever way we can call on him as the fishermen did in their boar to come awake within us and to give us courage, to give us hope, to show us, each one, our way. May he be with us especially when the winds go mad and the waves fun wild, as they will for all of us before we’re done, so that even in their midst we may find peace, find him. (Secrets in the Dark, cited in Huey, op cit.)

Christ is present, maybe even asleep, in the deepest selves of all of us. Call on him. Embrace him. Travel with him.

May these words be hope and courage and even peace for us for the living of these days.

Amen.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 
Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out

Wed., June 20, 2012–One week left until vacation (but who’s counting?!). Actually, one week left until we leave to prepare for Russ Clark’s memorial service in Potsdam, NY and the committal of his and June’s ashes in the family cemetery plot in Governeur, NY. It will be good to be together as a family and to have that bit of closure.

THEN vacation. On a day like today, when it’s hot and muggy, it’s hard not to declare a vacation, a time out from all but the essential. We don’t do that very often, at least I don’t. Even our days off are filled with "to do’s," so much so that we try to squeeze so much in, we’re often exhausted by the end of our days off! So much for rest, renewal, re-creation, let alone Sabbath. We Christians have a lot to learn from our Jewish brothers and sisters, who take Sabbath seriously, or rather, joyously. Can you even imagine spending a whole day with your family and loved ones, eating slowly and only what had been prepared or purchased beforehand, not running around to appointments or sports events or shopping, remembering that all that we are and have comes from God? Noticing the flowers, the cloud formations, having unhurried conversations with family and friends, not checking the e-mail or Facebook, keeping the tv off? Wow! What on earth would we do?! Breathe in, breathe out. Wouldn’t our minds go crazy with all that space? Probably, at least at the beginning. Breathe in, breathe out. Wouldn’t our bodies get "twitchy," without racing around? Probably, but there are walks to take or bike rides (leisurely) to enjoy. Breathe in, breathe out.

Of course, I also know there are others for whom the days already drag on and on, but renewal and re-creation don’t exactly describe them. It’s more like loneliness, or boredom, or dealing with pain. Breathe in, breathe out. We can still turn our attention to God, who is present in all places, in all situations, in all times. Might God still be able to recreate us when we’re old, or alone, or sad, or under-used? I believe so. We just have to be open to what that re-creation might look like or feel like.

Breathe in, breathe out. It sounds so simple. We do it without even thinking. But every now and then, think about it. Notice it. See how much you can breathe in and notice the pause before the exhale. What is in that emptiness? Then breathe out, completely, more than you think is still left in your lungs. Experience that emptiness. Then see how much breath/Spirit/wind enters you to give you life again.

On vacation or in the midst of work. In school or out. Alone or in the midst of crowd. Breathe in, breathe out. It’s a gift from God.
"Seeds of the New Creation"-- Mark 4:26-34, 2 Corinthians 5:14-17--
June 17, 2012

"Seeds of the New Creation"-- Mark 4:26-34, 2 Corinthians 5:14-17-- June 17, 2012

If you were to have the "birds and bees" lecture from an adult living in Biblical times, it might go something like this–"Well, the male plants his seed in a female, and then the seed grows inside the female, who keeps it warm and safe, until it’s time for the baby to be born. Now, have you gotten your chores finished?"

It was thought that the mother only provided the incubator for the father’s seed, so the father was literally "life-giving." You can see why God would have been called "Father," the Creator and Source of our lives. In an agricultural society like the one Jesus grew up in, stories about seeds would be a natural way to talk about God, for his hearers would have observed how seeds are sown, what conditions they grow best in, how many obstacles there are to bearing fruit, as well as how miraculous that so many seeds yield such an abundant harvest.

So, here in the 4th chapter of Mark, we have several stories about seeds–"Listen! [Jesus says] A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Others fell on rocky ground with no depth of soil, and it withered and died. Other seed fell among thorns, which choked the young plants. Other seed fell into good soil, and it yielded 30 and 60 and 100-fold. Isn’t that amazing?..." Or, "the kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground and would sleep night and day, and nonetheless the seed sprouted and grew–isn’t that amazing?–and he harvested the full grain." "He also said, ‘With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air and make nests in its shade." Isn’t that amazing?

For a community faced with all sorts of perils and oppression, the image of even the tiniest seed surviving and flourishing and multiplying was good news indeed. "You are God seeds," Jesus told them. This is how you will grow and flourish. And we probably need to let go of our typical images of gardening, of carefully planting seeds in rows and pretty fenced-off places. Seed was sown by throwing it out in extravagant movements. Some absolutely would fall on rocks or amongst thorns or on pathways, so thank God there was abundance in each of the seeds that fell on good soil.

And the mustard seed was not planted in carefully labelled herb gardens. John Dominic Crossan explains that mustard was "something you would want in only small and carefully controlled doses–if you could control it." (Cited by David Lose in Working Preacher.com, 6/17/12) Mustard was more like kudzu, that weed that literally takes over everything in its path down south.

"With what can we compare the kingdom of God? [Jesus asked] It is like mustard seed, that not only grows into great shrubs where birds can make their nests, but it gets into everything, takes over everywhere, is way beyond your control."

The kingdom of God is not something you can control. It’s not safe if, as one writer puts it, "if we’re even minimally satisfied with the way things are." [David Lose, ibid.] And the kingdom of God is not really even a place, a geographical territory like we think of other "kingdoms." A better translation for that word might be the reign of God, or really the "reigning" of God. It’s not a static thing, but rather, dynamic. "God is a verb," as pioneering feminist theologian Mary Daly said. Think of God as a verb, not a noun, not a name.

We might even think of seeds as verbs, or at least of pure potential energy for change, rather than a contained, static thing. "The kingdom of God [or, the reigning of God] is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself....until the grain is ripe." Transformation, change, is built into the universe, Jesus said. It’s a given.

Some seed sprouts into ripe grain, able to nourish us, other seeds, like the mustard seed, turn everything upside down, providing shelter for some creatures but upending our carefully designed plans and lives. The reigning of God is like that, Jesus said. You can’t control it–isn’t that a relief?!–but it can push us off our couches and out of our recliners to get with the program, to be part of that life-changing, world-changing energy. "Changing lives since 1836" our t-shirts say. That’s only impressive or appealing if you’re open to having your life changed. If you’re totally satisfied with your life, if there’s no room for improvement, or if you think the world is just fine the way it is, then who needs to be part of "changing lives"?

"But if you’re not satisfied," as one writer puts it, "if you can imagine something more than the status quo of scarcity and fear and limited justice and all the rest we’re regularly offered, then maybe Jesus saying that God’s kingdom is infiltrating the kingdom of the world offers a word of hope, a hope that will entice, prod or poke you into working toward the vision of the kingdom of God he proclaims." (David Lose, ibid.)

In the movie Hunger Games, (though not in the book upon which it’s based), the diabolical President Snow asks his chief Game-maker in charge of making the Hunger Games a spectacle that are as entertaining as they are barbaric, why there has to be a winner. The answer is hope. Maybe if the odds are in their favor, the tributes of the various districts will be able to escape poverty and servitude; and so they enter into the games, throw themselves into them, in the hope of winning a better life for themselves and their families. "But for that very reason, such hope is as perilous for a dictator as it is useful. ‘A little hope,’ the Game-maker tells the President, ‘is effective; a lot of hope is dangerous.’" (cited in Lose, ibid.)

"With what shall we compare the kingdom of God, the reigning of God...It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, the most invasive of all species..."

"If anyone is in Christ," Paul wrote to the Corinthians, not only is that one changed, but "there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" Godseeds have been scattered and sown all over the world, barely noticeable yet in some places, in others already providing shelter and shape for the new creation, all of them working their life-changing, world-changing work already. What are you the possibility of? as the Landmark seminar asks. "I am the possibility of love, valor, and compassion," one man discovered. "I am the possibility of beautifully made marimba cases," another one of our friends discerned, and so changed his life work. What are you the possibility of? What are we the possibility of? What kind of community might we yet become? What kind of mustard seed effect might we have on our community or the world?

"Where do you picture God?" the children of Godly play have been asking this year, as we heard and saw last week. It’s another great question to ask–Where do you picture God? Where do you see God being present in the world and in your life? Where is the kingdom of God, or the reigning of God, already coming and in our midst?

At their meeting this past Tuesday evening, the Board of Deacons decided to issue the challenge, the invitation, the assignment, if you will, to our whole congregation to take pictures, write poems, draw or paint, think of or create music that, like the children of Godly Play, portrays where you picture God. Summer is as good a season as any to take on that assignment, so keep your eyes and ears and heart open. We’d love to have an exhibit and create a worship service around these "pictures" in the fall.

"If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!" "The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."

There’s a bowl of mustard seeds on the table in the back of the sanctuary. I invite you to take one, or if you’re really brave, a couple, with you today and keep it as a reminder throughout the summer. You can put it on a piece of tape, if you’d like, for "safe" keeping, but know that it’s not "safe." The kingdom of God, the reigning of God, is like that mustard seed, able to grow and transform your life and even the whole world. Where do you picture God? What are you the possibility of?

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
We are connected

We are connected

June 13, 2012–Two weekends ago I attended the Annual Meeting of the Vermont Conference of the United Church of Christ, held at Vermont Technical College in Randolph, VT. I’ve been going to Vermont Conference Annual Meetings almost every year since I came to Bennington 17 years ago, so now I’m one of the "old ones." When you’re new to a conference, just about every face is new to you. Then, as you become active in conference activities and have been around awhile, there are lots and lots of familiar faces. Now I find that there are fewer familiar faces, as my colleagues move on or retire, but still, I look forward to Annual Meeting to meet up with old friends, soak up the energy of new pastors and delegates, and observe the changes that have taken place over the years.

This year I was especially moved by the Conference preacher, the Rev. Da Vita McCallister, who’s the Associate Conference Minister for Youth and Young Adult Ministries in the Connecticut Conference. She referred to herself as a "BaptaPentacostalMethal of Christ," explaining that she had been raised Baptist, discovered Pentecostalism, became Methodist, and finally found her true home in the United Church of Christ. I loved her fire and humor and insight, calling us to the joy that comes through and after lamentation.

Music for the conference was provided by Oikos, a wonderful jazz quartet led by the Rev. Cliff Aerie (who looks an awful lot like Paul Winter). Not only did they infuse energy and color into the hymns, but also loosened up our all-too-stiff New England bodies. I even got to sing with the Conference Choir and Oikos for the final worship service, which was a treat for me.

This year’s schedule was contracted into a day and a half, so the usual "Conference family" celebrations–of retirements, new pastors, ordinations, deaths-- took place on the overhead screen. Still, I was moved to see the names and pictures of friends and loved ones lifted up, and none more so than that of my brother Bob, who retired last year and died 9 months later. I found myself feeling his absence deeply, as Annual Meeting was one of the few times in the year we would catch up with and be with each other. Grief is, indeed, a journey.

Annual Meeting renewed and confirmed "the ties that bind" for me, reminding me of the wider church of which we are a part and without which we would be so much less effective and faithful. None of us can do this on our own, but each of us has our own unique place in the Reign of God, which is both coming and now is upon us. We are all connected.
Toy Box, Book Shelf and Gifts delivered!

Toy Box, Book Shelf and Gifts delivered!

Most of our youth group is under the age requirement to work on Habitat sites.  However, our group still wanted to help.  Back in March we used our Potato Brunch fund raiser to raise money to purchase both a bookcase and toybox for the Habitat family who would move into the new Manchester house later in the spring.

Andrea Lampron, our resident carpentry expert, helped the youth group by scouting out the best deals.  She had Manchester Woodcraft build the bookcase and she found a put together toy box to assemble.

Once the furniture was sanded, stained and varnished and/or painted, the youth went shopping to buy some items for each child to fill their new furniture.  Once these tasks were completed, arrangements were made and furniture was delivered on Sunday, June 3rd!

Great job everyone!

 

One enkindled spirit...

One enkindled spirit...

Wednesday, June 5, 2012–  William H. Danforth wrote, "One enkindled spirit can set hundreds on fire." I can think of no more enkindled spirit than that of my beloved father-in-law, Russell Clark, who died this past Sunday morning at home, surrounded, as he was his whole life, by loved ones, enkindled spirits all. My brother- and sister-in-law were beside him, another sister-in-law out in the garden cutting luminous yellow irises, yet another sister-in-law just moments away in her car. Russ’ son Bruce, my beloved, was at that moment beginning worship here on my behalf, at the same time Russ had begun worship on countless Sunday mornings.

Russell had served United Methodist Churches in northern and central New York for over 40 years "officially," and many more years after he retired, supply-preaching, doing weddings, funerals and baptisms. In places few people outside the area would know–like Oriskany Falls, Deansboro, and Pulaski, NY–and in places which are perhaps more widely known, like Watertown, Corning, and Potsdam, NY–Russ brought his enkindling spirit with both intellect and wisdom, passion and studiousness, expansiveness and appreciation for the humble people and things of life.

Born on a farm in Nowhere, Northern New York, into a family that wrote love letters in Latin verse, Russ went to Colgate University and then on to Boston University School of Theology, putting himself through school on his intellectual and musical abilities. He became a Methodist minister, falling into it as much as being "called" into it, as his father and grandfather and maybe great-grandfather had been Methodist ministers. He would have made a wonderful doctor or professor or anything else he chose to do, but he healed and taught through his ministry.

I honestly believe no one who heard Russell Clark preach remained unchanged. "I’ve never heard a preacher like that," people would say, or "I’ve never had so much fun in church," or "I will never forget that sermon about..." I daresay Russ enkindled thousands of spirits.

The real enkindling fire in Russ’ life was the Love which he experienced in his family–his life partner and sweetheart June, his five children, eleven grandchildren, and four-plus great-grandchildren, not to mention all of us "out-laws," as those of privileged to marry into the family like to call ourselves. Each one felt special. Each one knew we were unconditionally loved by him.

We have had the rare privilege of saying good-bye to Russ over these past months when we knew that his cancer would someday overwhelm his body, though never his spirit. It has been a heart-breakingly sweet time. So now we must let him go, knowing that, really, he is now part of that greater Presence. With Dag Hammerskjold we say, "For all that has been, Thank You. For all that will be, Yes."
Get tough...or not

Get tough...or not

Wednesday, May 30, 2012–My daughter Meredith completed her first marathon this past Sunday. I am one proud mom.

It is said that the last 6.2 miles of a 26.2-mile marathon are the "second half" of the race. It is in these last 6.2 miles that a runner’s grit, training, courage, and mental and physical toughness are really tested. At one point in those last couple of miles, Meredith ran past her uncle standing along the side of the course. "Get tough, Meredith!" he advised her, knowing of what he spoke, because he has not only run marathons himself, but coaches marathoners. Meredith did indeed "get tough" and dug deep, and finished the race, upright and beaming.

I’ve been an athlete all my life, certainly not an "elite"one, and only competing with others on swim teams up through high school. Still, I’ve always been active--swimming, dancing, walking, running for a brief while, cross-country skiing, yoga. I have experienced that point in a race or a practice where I did have to "get tough," pushing on through weariness and the pain of exertion, and being glad I did–or could.

But now that I am in the "second half" of life (who knows our length of days?), I find that the real challenge is to know when to "get tough" and when to "soften up, let go." I have battled judgmentalism for most of my life–of others and of myself. I find that I’ve loosened up considerably on my judgmentalism of others–I’ve heard enough life stories that have added depth and complexity and heartache to my initial impressions to know that most judgments are superficial, or at least incomplete.

But I’m still pretty tough on myself. I was never taught to learn from my mistakes, only to avoid them. So, when I forget a meeting, like I did this week, or fail to do a job the way I know it "should" be done, or make a stupid remark, I can be pretty ruthless with myself. Never mind that I, like almost everyone else I know, is juggling way too many things, trying to take care of too many other people, have had a number of losses to deal with. Get tough, I say, dig deep, shape up. And there’s certainly always deeper to dig.

But maybe, just maybe, way down deep are the Everlasting Arms, waiting to catch me when I fall and fail, ready to receive me when I finally let go, ready to hold me when my physical and emotional muscles give out. In this "second half" of life, may that be the Truth I strive to remember.
"Dreams and Visions"-- Acts 2:1-21, Romans 8: 22-27 -- May 27, 2012

"Dreams and Visions"-- Acts 2:1-21, Romans 8: 22-27 -- May 27, 2012

On that Jewish festival of Pentecost, or First Fruits of the harvest, the disciples and followers of Jesus who gathered in that upper room in Jerusalem were faithful Jews waiting for a Jewish messiah. (Mark Suriano, cited by Kate Huey in Weekly Seeds, 5/27/12) With the arrival of the Holy Spirit, like a mighty rushing wind, appearing to be tongues of fire alighting upon each person’s head, these backwater Galileans became "ambassadors of a more universal experience of God," (Suriano, op cit.) able to speak in the languages of all the people who had gathered in the city for the holy days. On that day, which we often call "the birthday of the church," that handful of faithful followers of "the Way" were transformed themselves for the transformation of the world. It was, in the words of one preacher, "a monumental, paradigm-changing event." (Gary V. Simpson, The African American Lectionary, 5/31/09)

We gather today as well, perhaps in the scheme of things a "handful of faithful followers of the Way," but I wonder if we have any expectation of transformation, let alone "the power from on high," which those first disciples awaited. The thing is, the story of Pentecost tells us that the power and presence of the Holy Spirit is absolutely essential for the existence of the church. Without it, we have no right to call ourselves by that name.

As Gary V. Simpson, an African American preacher and teacher, reminds us, gathering together in one place doesn’t give us power. What we need is "synchronized energy," or "synergy"; and, he says, the Holy Spirit is not just "raw spiritual energy," but "divinity with personality...It is not merely a power source but God willing to be in radical relationship with believers to affect the power structures of the world." (Ibid.) And that power is totally out of our control–"And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind," Luke tells us, "and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability."

"Pentecost," Simpson says, "is not simply a day to remember the birth of the church, but it is also a way of remembering our commitment to open ourselves, to change the world and be changed by the world with the aid of the Holy Spirit." To change the world and be changed by the world with the aid of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is not only Comforter, Intercessor, as we heard in the passage from Romans, but also Disturber, World-changer, Life-changer. Do we really want that? Do we know what we’re saying when we pray, "Come, Holy Spirit"? More often in the church, we hear, "We’ve always done it that way," which really means, "That’s the way I’ve gotten used to it’s being done." (David Lose, Working Preacher.com, 5/27/12)

It is sometimes said that Pentecost reverses the confusion of languages that God put into human beings in the story of the Tower of Babel. You remember that primordial story of human beings deciding together to build a tower up to heaven (It’s hard to even imagine human beings actually agreeing on something, isn’t it?), and to prevent that hubris, or that attempt to displace God, God is said to have given them all different languages, so they couldn’t understand one another and complete their task.

In the story of Pentecost, the followers of Jesus are given different languages but everyone can understand in their native tongue, and what they are given ability to communicate is the "powerful deeds of God," an invitation to enter into radical relationship with this God to transform the power structures of the world. The Word of God has that strange ability. As the great African American preacher Gardner Taylor pointed out, the masters taught the gospel to their slaves in the hopes that they would hear, "Slaves, obey your masters." But what the slaves heard was, "The ones I have set free are free indeed!" (Cited by Simpson, op cit.)

"The Gospel story has no portability or power [Simpson writes] if it gets trapped in the language and capacity or ability of the witnesses alone. We are called by the circumstances of the Church’s birth [--this Pentecost story–] to wrestle with the language we use to communicate the gospel so that our experiences are more than mere personal jubilation." The church doesn’t exist just for us and our comfort and happiness. It exists for the transformation of everyone, of the whole world, and we need to communicate that.

It takes courage and creativity to be that church. (David Lose, op cit.) It’s going to take more than wearing our t-shirts around this summer. We do need to think about what we’ll do if somebody actually asks us what they’re about, let alone what we’ll do should they take us up on our offer to join us some Sunday morning. The traditional language of the church, as I wrote in my piece for the most recent Open Door, is no longer the "native tongue" of very many people, particularly younger folk. So we need to learn other languages as well if we are to communicate this life-giving, life-changing, "good news." I’m hoping to learn more of the language of Positive Psychology through the course I’ll be taking this year. Another language we might learn from is the language of one of the most successful businesses on the planet–Apple.

In a fascinating article called, "10 Things the Church Can Learn from the Apple Store," Lutheran professor and pastor David Lose offers some translations for the church from an article by a friend of his, (Gary Kawasaki), who worked for Apple for years. Kawasaki laid out these "10 Things You Can Learn from the Apple Store" --

1. Stop selling stuff. Apple employees are taught to ask, rather, "How do we enrich people’s lives?" Lose’s translation for the church is: "Stop worrying about membership and whether people will join the church," which is our equivalent of "selling stuff." "Instead," he says, "ask people why they’re here, why they’ve come, what they’re looking for, and how this congregation can aid them in their walk with God."

2. Enrich lives. These are the first two words on a wallet-sized credo card Apple employees are encouraged to carry. The translation for the church is: "Strengthen faith." We might also translate it: Build trust in God. What if "every aspect of our lives as a congregation–our worship, our meetings, our educational opportunities, our facilities, our newsletter, and all that were intended to help people strengthen their faith and grow in their lives as disciples?

3. Hire for smiles. Apple values magnetic personality as much as, if not more so, than technical proficiency. It cares less about what you know than it cares about how much you love people. Translation for us: "Hire" for smiles! Statistics show that visitors make up their minds about a church in the first 2 minutes. Are they greeted with genuine smiles and welcome? Can they find their way around? You get it.

4. Celebrate diversity. "Mohawks, tattoos, piercings are all accepted among Apple Store employees" because that reflects the diversity of their customers. The translation for us is obvious, and pointed–Do we really welcome all people of faith or in search of faith, without regard to age, race, sex, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation? Look around. Do we reflect the diversity we say we welcome?

5. Unleash inner genius. "Teach your customers something they never knew they could do before, and they’ll reward you with their loyalty." Translation for the church is: Everyone here has something of value to offer. We must recognize, help them discern that gift if they don’t recognize it themselves, celebrate these gifts, challenge folks to develop and strengthen their gifts, and train folks so that they can experience satisfaction and confidence in what they offer.

6. Empower employees. Apple employees are non-commissioned sales people. They don’t get paid for selling more products. They are there because they contribute to everyone’s success, and their initiative and creativity are encouraged. Translation for the church: Lose writes, "If it matters, don’t let the pastor do it!" Create a permission-giving culture in which folks try things that energize them, and then, if necessary, they can ask for forgiveness later.

7. Sell the benefit. Apple employees are taught to sell the benefit of their products–how this will enrich your life and that of your children, how can we customize this so that it will actually fit your life and not make you fit into it. The translation for the church is: Practice talking about what we love about this congregation–why we come here Sunday mornings, that sort of thing. We hope to do that more in the weeks to come.

8. Follow the Steps of Service. The 5 steps of service for Apple employees follow the letters in Apple–A-approach with a warm greeting, p-Probe politely to understand the customer’s needs. P-Present a solution the customer can take home today. L–Listen for and address unresolved questions. E–End with a fond farewell and an invitation to return. Translation for us: Take hospitality seriously. Practice it.

9. Create multisensory experiences–Apple stores are set up so people can touch, hold, see, hear the products. Translation for the church, Lose says, is: Keep worship simple, clean, and richly multi-sensorial, inviting a faith that goes deeper than our brains to reach the whole person.

And finally, 10. Appeal to the "buying brain."[More helpful for us is, Learn from brain research.] Clutter forces the brain to consume energy, we know. Apple stories are very uncluttered. The translation for the church is: What are we doing–in our worship, meetings, education–that we don’t need to? What is essential?

10 Things the Church Can Learn from the Apple Store. And Lose suggests there’s one more thing to learn from Apple, which he writes about in his article, "The Church is not Apple, but..." (5/24/12) That one more thing to learn, which was Steve Job’s real gift, is "design matters." One of the things we are learning in the revolution in cognitive neuro-science is that ‘the mind is less rational than we believe and more associative than we know." (NY Times, 1/8/12, Week in Review, p. 12) In other words, we are hard-wired to absorb images, metaphors, rather than numbers and "facts." Design matters. In our worship. In our we talk about/express God. In all our communications. In our building.

"In the last days it will be, God declares, [Peter told the astonished witnesses that first Pentecost] that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young people shall see visions, and your old people shall dream dreams..." On this day of Pentecost, may we commit ourselves to being open to God’s Holy Spirit as it seeks to transform us and transform the world. So may the church truly be re-born and the whole creation with it. Amen, and amen.

 

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Waiting

Waiting

Wednesday, May 23, 2012–According to the Christian calendar, we are between Ascension Day, when Jesus "ascended" into heaven and told his followers to wait for the Holy Spirit to come, and the Day of Pentecost, when the Spirit arrived in fiery power and "speaking ability." Until then, according to Luke’s gospel, they were in the Temple, "continually blessing God."

Luke tells a slightly different story in Acts, for though he says they returned to Jerusalem and joined the men and women in the upper room there who "were constantly devoting themselves to prayer," they also did some business–they elected a replacement for Judas. Taking care of business is another time-honored way of filling the waiting time.

Bruce’s family has been keeping company with his father as he nears the end of his long, full life. He doesn’t eat much these days and has lost a lot of weight. I have this image of there being nothing left in the bed some morning, just his clothes. Still, this time of waiting has been rich and precious, despite the sometimes awkward conversations about bodily functions and "what if’s." It has been filled both with prayer and blessing God, as well as some business. We await something that we both dread and yet see as a fulfillment, a completion.

My daughter Meredith has been training since February for her first marathon, which takes place this Sunday morning in Burlington. She has worked hard, learned much, shared the experience and learnings in a wonderful blog (16to26.blogspot.com), and now is trying to get through the week without driving herself crazy with anticipation. Just a little more waiting.

I remember thinking I would be pregnant forever as the end of my pregnancies drew near. It seemed as though I would burst open before these babies were ready to be born, but, of course, in the fullness of time, each one was finally ready, my body began the process it was designed to go through, and two beautiful babies were each born "in the fullness of time."

"The fullness of time" – kairos – as the Greek calls it–different from chronos or "clock time." Kairos is God’s time, not to be hurried or even measured by us, only trusted in. "Continually blessing God" is probably the most appropriate way to live in kairos.

So we bless God, the Giver and Creator of Life, as we wait for the fullness of time in Russ’ life, as we celebrate and cheer Meredith on, as we open ourselves up to the fiery, windy, empowering, birthing, comforting Holy Spirit to come on whatever Pentecost Day God chooses. Thanks be to God!

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