Prayer and God's Silence

I read a great column in Sojourners today, by Rose Marie Berger, on the experience of God's absence or silence. She writes:

"The early Christians described this experience of God’s absence or silence as the via negativa... one “relates” to God as the Vast Emptiness, the Dark Night, the Endless Expanse, the “Absent One,” as Mother Teresa put it. There is no language to build a bridge of human relationship with this aspect of the Divine. Astronaut Buzz Aldrin, at the time a Presbyterian church elder, came close when he looked from the moon at the Earth suspended in infinite darkness: “Magnificent desolation,” he uttered."

It reminds me a bit of the text I'm working on for Sunday's sermon -- not too surprising; a lot of things seem to connect when I'm mulling something over. Isaiah 55:8-9, describes God's distance from us in this way:

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts."

There is so much about God that we can't grasp. In the context of the passage in Isaiah, this great height, this distance from God, is a promise of God's mercy. Because God is so different from us, God is so much better at showing mercy than we would be. It also seems to me that there is a freedom in realizing that we are not God, and hope in shifting the focus from our thoughts and ways to God's.

Religious Landscape Survey

The Pew Forum released a big report on Monday based on a survey they did of the religious landscape in the U.S. Interesting facts that stood out to me:

About 10% of U.S. adults are ex-Catholics, whether they have moved to other traditions or the "unaffiliated" group. Catholics who leave the church, however, are replaced, in part by converts (2.6%), but even more so by immigrants, who are, as a group, more likely to be Catholic than the overall U.S. population.

The unaffiliated group is 16.1% of the adult population; twice the number (8%) who say they were unaffiliated as children. Still more fascinating is that half of those who were raised as unaffiliated are now affiliated (that's 4% of the population). So 3/4 of those who are unaffiliated have left some religious tradition. AND, not too surprising, 25% of those age 18-29 say that they are not affiliated with any particular religious tradition. This makes a lot of sense to me, given that I always feel like the people I know are, numerically, less religious than the statistics I've seen.

I do wonder, if this study were done longitudinally, if 18-29 year olds would always be less religiously affiliated than other age groups. It seems to me, anecdotally, that a lot of people return to church after a decade or so of absence when they have kids.

I find all kinds of demographic profiles interesting... but the incredible religious diversity in the U.S. is one of my favorite things about this country.

Fueling Up

Quinn had a difficult evening, so this post might go up a bit past the midnight deadline... such is life with a baby. I still don't feel like we figured out what was making her so sad; it could be that she was just tired.

But, as she was calming down and we were cuddling, and I was thinking "what can I possibly post about tonight? I am so tired..." I had a glimmer of a thought. I feel like clergy types talk a lot about taking care of ourselves, and are notoriously bad at it. It seems to me that inspiration and encouragement, which as a pastor, I want to give people professionally, and as a person, I would like to give people, well, personally, are things that you need input in order to produce output.

I'm preaching this Sunday for the first time since before Quinn's birth... which means that it has been a long time, but also that it's hard to find the right kind of energy to craft a sermon (the time is also an issue). And yet, I feel so fortunate that I have a lot of sources of inspiration and encouragement in my life. Just in the last two days, two different people have shared stories with me that really bore witness to God's working (in ways big and small) in their lives. I have many other pastors I can connect with talk to, and count on to pray for me. And, I really do find inspiration in our baby in brief and magical glimpses.

So, if you have to fuel up on inspiration in order to produce it, I would say I'm well-supplied. And that's good news for everyone who has to hear me preach on Sunday! :)

Religiosity

I participated in an online study today that measures how religious Christians are in six different dimensions, described as follows:

"The authors of the Inclusive Christian Scale have found over the course of previous research studies that religiosity could be thought of in terms of the following six dimensions: evangelical, Christian conservative, activist, golden rule, community involvment, and mystic.
The Evangelical dimension refers to a particular focus on prayer, evangelism or outreach, and faith as a source of strength.
The Christian Conservative dimension reflects a particular focus on avoiding acts seen as sinful, on a literal interpretation of the Bible, and on a transforming spiritual experience.
The Activist dimension refers to a focus on changing unjust structures in the world as a part of one’s practice of faith.
The Golden Rule dimension refers to a particular focus on attempting to live so that one treats others as one would wish to be treated. This dimension highlights a concern about many of the same issues found on the Activist dimension, but the focus is more on individuals and less on social structures.
The Community Involvement dimension underlines a particular focus on active participation in the church as a fellowship of faith.
The Mystic dimension reflects a particular focus on an intimate, pervasive relationship/connection to God."

My scores were:

EVANGELICAL: 72 %
CHRISTIAN CONSERVATIVE: 13 %
ACTIVIST: 69 %
GOLDEN RULE: 89 %
COMMUNITY INVOLVEMENT: 95 %
MYSTIC: 75 %

I was unsurprised at the low marks for "Christian conservative," but a bit taken aback to see that I scored higher for evangelical than for activist. I do know that, both as a pastor and as a person of faith, I set a lot of store in the faith communities I am and have been a part of, so that super-high mark for community seems accurate. I aspire to be somewhat of a mystic, so I'm sort of proud of that score.

What kind of Christian (or not) are you? I'd be really interested for other folks to take the instrument and post your percentages as a comment; I also wonder if it applies to people of other faiths, or those who are "spiritual but not religious" (you know who you are ;) ).

Theology of Facebook?

So, this article raises some issues that everyone who uses Facebook (which seems to be pretty much everyone) should at least be aware of. It's scary how much information you give them, and to what uses it might be put.

Nonetheless, I really like Facebook. Part of it is the faces -- I get to see people I care about (or at least am curious about and have generally positive feelings towards) who I may not have seen in person in 10 years, or who live in far-flung areas of the country. Part of it is the nice interface. It's easy to use, and feels pleasingly uncluttered. And, I'll admit, part of it is Oregon Trail.

But I wonder what a spiritual or theological critique might be... because even as I add friends and applications, I find part of myself hungry for the anti-Facebook. And I suspect it's a spiritual hunger. Sure, it's easy to check out people's photos, exchange brief notes encapsulating the last decade, and, for those friends who update their status frequently, get a real sense of what's going on in people's lives. But the more difficult connections -- actually finding time to be together, to break bread, talk, laugh, and have real conversation, is ultimately more satisfying.

I do think that, like any technology, Facebook can be used in service of spiritual life, to promote and strengthen real connections in interesting and creative ways (there's an application for intercessory prayer). But I need real friends, too.

Sad and Sobering

I was sad to read this story about a young boy who was shot, presumably because he was gay. The hints as to what his short life might have been like add to the sadness; he was living at "a center for abused and neglected children in the foster care system."

The pastor mentioned comes off well; he seems to be referencing Psalm 139. It's essential, I think for a clergyperson in that situation to assert how God created and loved this boy whose life was cut short.

I wonder about the shooter. Apparently he was part of a group who bullied the young man. He's being tried as an adult, and the hate crime adds to the length of a potential sentence... what will his life be like?

Singleness of Purpose

Another Quinn-inspired (Quinspired?) musing today... at 3 months old, she has made noticeable gains in her manual dexterity. Her main use of said dexterity is grabbing things and putting them in her mouth (sometimes just getting her hands in is good enough). She seemingly never gets tired of the task of grabbing onto things and bringing them to her mouth -- she has an amazing amount of focus and determination when she is doing this, and it is very clearly the sole focus of all the energies of her little brain and body.

I was reflecting today that I almost envy this singleness of purpose she has. Perhaps it's the nature of life, or my life, but I think becoming a parent has made it worse... there are so many small things to be done, that I very rarely feel a) that I am able to devote full attention to one thing for any length of time, or b) that I have a sense of Purpose in the things that I am doing.

I think that it is in part this desire for a sense of Purpose that has me re-evaluating my life as I go back to work, thinking more about how I am using my time (even though there now seems to be a lot less of it!). I've been feeling for a while like I should be doing more things that get me involved in the needs of my community (and that I want to encourage my church in that direction as well).

My purpose, vocationally and personally, if I think about it, is simple: to experience God's love and share it with other people. Perhaps that means grabbing hold of it where I see it and learning again to "taste and see that the LORD is good."

Prison, Part 2

This will be brief -- I'm yet again running up to my (admittedly self-imposed) midnight deadline.

The thing about ministry to the incarcerated... well, there are a lot of things about it, but there is such an incredible need for it. Jail and prison are, perhaps on purpose, incredibly dehumanizing institutions, and it is an incredible thing to simply treat an inmate like a person.

Perhaps the most important thing my colleagues and I did as volunteer prison chaplains was to acknowledge that those men had souls. They knew it, for certain, but our presence and willingness to spend time with them in conversation and prayer affirmed it powerfully.

That's one side of it. The other side is that I believe visiting the incarcerated fills a spiritual need that we free folks, living "outside the wall," have. Because, like it or not, we are to some degree responsible for the laws and systems that cause people to go to jail or prison. They are tried and sentenced by "the state," whether one of the 50 or the federal government. And that government is supposed to be accountable to us, its citizens, and we are supposed to be the ones who are protected when people who have committed crimes are sentenced to prison.

So that means they have been incarcerated on our behalf... but most of us don't really know what life in prison is like; even going in and out as a chaplain for months, I probably don't *really* know what it's like. But it is always good for the soul, I think, to see things like this -- even when it's hard (which is most of the time). WE have to know the true cost (as my sister the economist might say) of the policies and systems "we" have put in place and allow to continue.

It's also re-humanizing of free people to connect with people who have committed crimes, because it is all too easy to dismiss the humanity of "criminals" -- and every time we write someone off, a part of us becomes less than human.

I was in prison and you visited me...

This phrase, from Matthew 25:36, is the motto for Kairos Prison Ministry, an amazing program that does intensive spiritual retreats for both prisoners and their loved ones.

It's also a phrase that has haunted me for quite a few years now, ever since I was in college and started learning about the injustices and racial disparities in the judicial and penal systems in the U.S. In my first year of divinity school, I got my first taste of prison ministry, doing CPE at Stateville Correctional Center in Joliet, IL. Later, when I was still in Chicago, I volunteered for the Storybook Project with Companions Journeying Together, helping incarcerated moms tape themselves reading boks to their kids.

I hope to get involved soon in a similar project at the DC jail; I finally made contact with the volunteer coordinator at the Visitor Services Center for the DC jail, and will meet with her on Tuesday.

On a Top Ten List...

... of ways you can tell the United States is not a Christian nation, I would have to include, quite near the #1 position, the statistic (referenced in this column by Paul Krugman in the New York Times) that 17.5 percent of children in this country live in poverty.

I don't actually think the U.S. *should* be a Christian nation. But, as a Christian, I do believe we should be a nation that takes care of its poor (and its sick, homeless, oppressed... those are all clear Biblical mandates). Given the number of U.S. citizens who identify as Christians, it doesn't make much sense to me that so few people seem to care that we aren't doing a better job of it.

Retreat

I survived taking the confirmation class on retreat. It was nice to get away; it seems like it is always easier for me to see glimpses of God at work in such a context. I've had much more experience as a participant in these kinds of things, and it's not the same sort of spiritual high from the other side (or at least, wasn't for me this time).

But all the same, I saw God: when the sulky kid finally smiled, about an hour after we got there, when the stressed-out kid said that he chose the word "peace" to focus on in our centering prayer, in the couple who not only opened their beautiful house to us, but also took the time to share their stories of faith with our group, and in the struggle for each of the kids to begin to find the words to share their own stories of faith.

Overwhelmed...

So, I'm feeling very overwhelmed this week and weekend. I have had a ton of work to do coming back from maternity leave and jumping right back in to the middle of things at church; I'm taking the confirmation class on a retreat tomorrow and Monday that I still haven't finished planning, and Tim has been out of town since Wednesday... I am so far beyond being stressed, I'm not even sure what this state is. It's a bit like finals week in school, where every waking moment is spoken for, and I'm still not sure I'll get everything done.

I think this is what people mean when they say God brought them through a certain time. Because I know that if I'm still standing on Monday evening, that's why. I've been so grateful for the small (and large) graces I've received this week. Logistics for the retreat went from looking like a huge mess to falling smoothly into place in the space of a couple hours on Monday; I got to go home early on Wednesday instead of babysitting; and on the days when I have needed to be able to get things done, Quinn has taken nice long naps. She's taking one right now, in fact.



Isn't she an angel? The rest of my family has been very helpful as well, from holding the baby to watching her to finding other small ways to be supportive; I'm so glad to be living with my sister and brother and sister-in-law.

Even though I'm not convinced that God intervenes at such a micro-level in daily living, I am certainly feeling grateful to the universe.

Belief vs. Faith

I'm not sure if this is a true dichotomy, but I was struck yet again today, as I was working on planning the program for the confirmation retreat I'll be leading this weekend, that when I think about faith, and what I experience as faith, is so much more than "believing in" any particular set of propositions. Being a theology nerd, I do find claims about God and humanity's relationship to God both interesting and compelling. But, as one of the books I was reading today puts it, there's a big difference between believing that God exists and knowing God.

In both the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), the church in which I am ordained, and the United Church of Christ, the church where I currently serve as a pastor, members are not bound by creeds. There's no set of beliefs you have to sign on to in order to belong. But still, I feel like people (myself included, at times) too easily revert to an understanding of faith as holding certain convictions, or knowing a lot of facts about the Bible... it can seem like all head and no heart.

So what is faith then, if it's not "I believe X about Y" ? Not accepting intellectually that The Story is True, but rather living as if The Story were True, and in the process finding our own stories make more sense. Faith is commitment to a relationship with God, to spending time with God, through worship, service, prayer and fellowship. Faith is opening not just your mind but your heart to the possibility of being loved unconditionally.

Valentine

I've never been very excited about Valentine's Day; how we got from a day that honored the martyrdom of a saint to a day that every fancy restaurant in town is full is unclear to me. http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

Wikipedia (such a useful source!) has some of the history. I used to aspire to making Valentines with a cutesy cartoon version of St. Valentine having his head removed (I'm not actually sure if that was the method of his execution, or if we know what was).

I do like some things about Valentine's Day: well, the chocolate. Even that, I have some reservations about; not only am I trying to stick to fair trade chocolate these days, but I am also amazed at the way there always seems to be "special occasion" candy in drugstores and grocery stores. They go straight from Halloween to Christmas, and before the half-price chocolate Santas are gone, it's on to Valentine's Day, and then Easter. I suppose there's some sort of candy vacation between Easter and Halloween.

I also like the "give a Valentine to everyone in the class" model from my elementary school years; some people feel free to show love to friends and family.

What I think is most problematic about Valentine's Day (even on the years when I don't give up chocolate for Lent ;)), is how it is probably the most extreme example of how our culture first valorizes romantic love, privileging it over other relationships, and then commodifies it; you show appreciation for your beloved by purchasing flowers, chocolate, or jewelry (diamonds, of course, are best). All of which leaves single people feeling especially lonely. (Although anyone can enjoy chocolate!)

As Christians, we're always supposed to be trying to love more; asking ourselves how do we love God with heart and soul and mind and strength, and how can we love our neighbors as ourselves?

Lenten Discipline

Maybe it's a bit early to reflect on this practice of blogging for Lent -- 40 days is a long time, and it's only been a week, but I'm pretty impressed that I've actually managed to post every day. Anyone who's been paying attention to the time on my posts will notice that most, like this one, have been in the final hour of the day. I suppose that's not too different from the final hour of Saturday night when I often finish sermons. (And yes, sometimes it does go into the wee hours of Sunday... I have a strong tendency to procrastinate...)

Thomas Edison is credited with the saying that genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. I think both the creative process and the spiritual life are in similar percentages... you put in the time, whether in writing or in prayer, and the moments come. This blog is my way of putting in the time, both in focusing on the Spirit and in writing about doing so, and I'm enjoying the feeling of "sweating," much like I enjoy physical labor on those rare occasions I engage in it.

I also like the way that I'm more attuned, at least some of the time, to the moments of grace in my everyday living, because they could give me a topic to write about that day.

Manga Jesus

I was really intrigued by this article from the New York Times, about a graphic novel that presents the Bible in the style of a Japanese comic book.

A confession: in my first glance at the article, I assumed the author (Ajinbayo Akinsiku) was Japanese. It turns out he's actually Nigerian.

This is definitely a version of the Bible I want to have, although my New Year's Resolution to buy nothing new
means that I'll be waiting to get a used copy. Although, I may need to order copies for my confirmation class. ;)

The combination of Jesus as a "samurai stranger" with an emphasis on justice for the poor certainly seems intriguing. I think (although I'm no expert) that there is some "precedent" (if you can properly call it that) of Christ-like figures in manga.

I'm not sure if my Jesus would make a very good comic book hero...

Imperfection and Beauty

So, the song that's been running through my head today is the chorus from Anthem, by Leonard Cohen. Tim and the Vespers Music crew played four Leonard Cohen songs in the morning worship service on Sunday. They did an amazing job; I was really moved by the music. It was also my first Sunday back from maternity leave.

Here's the chorus (which, interestingly enough, Tim knew as a quote before he had heard the song):
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in.

I feel like this expresses, much better than I could, one of the things I love about ministry and people and the Christian faith. (Music can be so much more moving than prose.) It embraces the flaws in life, and the opportunities they offer for something greater.

One of the gifts of ministry is the way people can open their lives to one another, to allow each other to see them, cracks and all, rather than working to maintain the illusion of who they are supposed to be. It's all the "cracks,: those minor imperfections, and the way they struggle with them, that make people beautiful to me.
It's only when you really let your guard down and admit... dare I say confess?... to all the stuff that makes you less than you want to be, that you can be accepted just as you are, embraced, even forgiven. I think we call that grace.

And what I love about Christian faith in particular is that we capture this truth in the incarnation of Christ -- that God would take on the messiness and flaws and limitations of human living, to be with us, to sit next to us, to let us know that it's okay. We try and try to neaten things up, spiritually and otherwise, to get things right, but again and again we realize life is just messy -- but then in rare moments of clarity, we also realize that is what makes it beautiful.

Sunday!

It seems ironic to take Sunday off from writing about spiritual reflections. I am, however, taking the time to instead tend to my other blog, where I will post some more photos of Quinn!

Right and Left

So, here's another thought for the day inspired by Quinn. She has, at 12 weeks old, very recently discovered her hands. All toys or other objects she might seem to be "playing with" are, for the most part, pawns in the epic struggle to get her hands into her mouth. As I was trying to rock her to sleep tonight, she seemed to be holding her pacifier in her mouth with her left fist (it was really cute), but then her right hand came flailing forward in such a way that it knocked the pacifier out of her mouth. Quite literally, her right hand did not know what her left hand was doing.

Since I'm a pastor (and a nerd when it comes to all things Biblical), of course this turned my thoughts to the passage from the gospel of Matthew, when Jesus is giving instructions on the proper attitude for religious practice. "When you give alms," he says, "do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing."

Such low-profile doing of good seems to be really rare. The people who just do good stuff, and never bring attention to it are special. I've known some people like that, mostly in congregations I've been part of. Most of us want credit for our good deeds or kindnesses, or charitable giving. It's a real challenge, that requires humility on our part (again, not something that's valued highly in our culture), to keep our good deeds secret.

It's also funny to me that I've probably heard the phrase "the right hand does not know what the left hand is doing" used most often to describe dysfunction within an organization or group.

The Spiritual Cost of Busyness

Well, I almost forgot to write a blog today, since I was so busy... which made it seem like a good day to reflect on a favorite topic of mine: the spiritual cost of being too busy.

I think it's part of what the gospel of Matthew is getting at in the parable of the wedding banquet (Matthew 22:1-9). It's a weird parable, but one of the interesting details is that some of the initial guests were simply too busy to show up for the party -- one had to tend to his farm, another to his business.

The spiritual problem with being too busy is deeper than not having time for explicitly religious activities (like prayer, meditation, service, fellowship, and worship). There's an abundance to life that we can't enjoy when we exhaust ourselves in the daily grind. I worry about this becoming a problem for kids at younger and younger ages, with over-scheduled lives and not nearly enough time to just be.

It's not that all the things that fill our lives aren't good things; but I feel my soul get weary along with my mind and body when there are just too many things.

It's also hard because a lot of things about modern U.S. culture tell us that our worth is determined by the things that we do, our accomplishments. Christian faith tells a different story, in which we are valued for who we are: beloved children of God. It is good to sit and rest awhile with that awareness.

Gratitude

Well, I'm only on the second day of this, and already I'm struggling to find a) time and b) inspiration to keep it going. But, here I am with almost an hour to go, and I have at least half a thought pulled together.

One of my favorite books is Cries of the Spirit, an anthology of women's spiritual poetry that I believe was put out by the Unitarian Universalist Association. I recall reading in the introduction to one of the sections, that gratitude is the most basic spiritual impulse.

I've been feeling very grateful lately, both for my lovely daughter (photo below), and for all the support we have, from family and friends both near and far.




Watching Quinn grow does remind me of two things on an almost daily basis: how amazing it is that human beings work, and how utterly dependent they are when they're new. I'm so very grateful that Quinn has been healthy and strong, that all her parts "work."

I also think I'm going to have to start re-thinking what it means to think about God as a parent. My mother said that you really understand how God is a father (her words, not mine ;) ) when you become a parent, because God loves you like you love your children, not like your parents loved you (because, of course, each of us knows the failings and imperfections in the love of our human parents). I haven't yet had the time or right kind of energy to integrate this into my theology yet, but I think that utter dependence of infants is in some sense parallel to our utter dependence on God.

Blogging for Lent

Today, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of Lent, the 40 days leading up to Easter, which has traditionally been a time of fasting and penitence for the church. 

Growing up, I often gave something up for Lent -- like television, or candy.  One year, in divinity school, I gave up all refined sugar.  There were times when those sacrifices made me more mindful of God -- but I would have to say that for the most part it just provided an extra incentive to do something healthy (and usually food-related).

In college, I wrote my honors thesis on sacrifice in Hebrews, one of the lesser-read New Testament epistles.  The big insight I had from my research was that sacrifice in the ancient world was worship, for both Jews and "pagans" in the cultural milieu where Christianity was born.  So, the point of sacrifice was to draw near to God. 

My Lenten discipline this season will be to attempt to draw near to God daily, and to provide reflections on this blog that might help others to do the same.  It seems to me that the point of fasting, or any spiritual discipline, is to better attune ourselves to notice the signs of God's presence in the world, and where God might be leading us.

PS -- I will also be posting here. Once I figure it out, it will work automatically... but I haven’t quite worked out the kinks yet.