Last Sunday (February 14), the New York Times magazine had a feature article regarding a brewing curriculum controversy in Texas. It seems that there are some members of the state board of education who want Texas textbooks to reflect their conviction that America has been, and continues to be, a Christian country.
"So there" , I could imagine these ardent advocates of the Christian witness saying as I read the article. "We're Christian. Always have been. We are a God given and Christian driven country. It is our destiny."
"So what?", I found myself muttering rather irreverently under my breath as I finished the article. What does it mean to say America is a Christian country? The debate felt like some theological contest -- and if there were to be enough political muscle to pull this off, I had the sense that many will feel that the Christians have won. Against whom? If Christians are the winners, who are the losers? Will they need to be Christian to be American? What defines a Christian?
"So what?" I have continued to ask myself for the past several days and on into this first week of Lent. I have found guidance -- and challenge, from the Gospel of Mark. In the eighth chapter, Jesus asks his disciples, "who do people say that I am?" (8:27) And they tell him what they have been hearing: some think he is John the Baptist; others say Elijah, and still others say one of the prophets. Jesus is not so much interested in what others are saying; he wants to know what the disciples believe: "But who do you say that I am?" (8:29)
I love to avoid that question. Most of us do. We avoid it by thinking that Jesus is asking the question of Peter and James and John -- and not us. We avoid it by wondering how other people can say they are Christian if they act the way they do. We avoid it by worrying over whether or not America is a Christian country -- and not pondering who Jesus is for you or me.
"But who do you say that Jesus is?" is one of the fundamental questions of faith. It is not a question that is easily answered, and it is not a question that we answer just once.
It is a question for this season. A daily question. I would suggest that whatever you take on this Lent -- or whatever you give up; that it be done with the intention of bringing you to a greater appreciation of the challenge of Jesus' question; and a discovery of the deep desire that both you and the living Christ have to be in relationship with each other.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Friday, January 15, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Marriage Equality in NJ: Justice Delayed is Justice Denied
Like many, I am deeply disappointed that the State Senate voted down marriage equality last Thursday. Three months ago, those who profess to divine the political winds were confident that it would pass – and New Jersey would join the ranks of states that permit same-gender marriage.
It didn’t.
Two weeks ago I spent the better part of a morning with a legislator who said to our small group that while he was personally in favor of marriage equality, his constituency was not; and he was not willing to create a political problem for himself by voting for it. This summer at General Convention, a group of 25 bishops met informally late one evening and early the next morning to see if we could come up with a resolution that would honor the disparity of political opinions and theological perspectives that we held regarding human sexuality. We were honest and fair with each other. One bishop – who was opposed to same gender blessings and to electing a gay or lesbian priest to be bishop, said that he knew this was all coming eventually, but asked if we could please slow it down a little.
The state slowed it down; the General Convention of the Episcopal Church took a step in moving it forward. At least a little. I do believe that full equality for all people whose relationships are marked by fidelity and commitment is coming eventually – at least in the Episcopal Church and in the state of New Jersey; and many of us will continue to work in each arena to bring that about. That, I suppose, is some consolation, but – as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. so eloquently stated years ago: “justice delayed is justice denied”.
It didn’t.
Two weeks ago I spent the better part of a morning with a legislator who said to our small group that while he was personally in favor of marriage equality, his constituency was not; and he was not willing to create a political problem for himself by voting for it. This summer at General Convention, a group of 25 bishops met informally late one evening and early the next morning to see if we could come up with a resolution that would honor the disparity of political opinions and theological perspectives that we held regarding human sexuality. We were honest and fair with each other. One bishop – who was opposed to same gender blessings and to electing a gay or lesbian priest to be bishop, said that he knew this was all coming eventually, but asked if we could please slow it down a little.
The state slowed it down; the General Convention of the Episcopal Church took a step in moving it forward. At least a little. I do believe that full equality for all people whose relationships are marked by fidelity and commitment is coming eventually – at least in the Episcopal Church and in the state of New Jersey; and many of us will continue to work in each arena to bring that about. That, I suppose, is some consolation, but – as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. so eloquently stated years ago: “justice delayed is justice denied”.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
The gift of practice -- December 24, 2009
In her new book, An Altar in the World, priest and writer Barbara Brown Taylor suggests that wisdom is not gained by knowing what is right. Wisdom is gained by practicing what is right.Practice is what this Advent blog has been about. Developing a practice -- or maintaining a practice, or revising a practice. Reflecting on the words of Joan Chittister -- as she reflects on her lifetime of Benedictine practice. And the rightness of it all is that through practice we are drawn closer to the center -- the center of our soul, the center of humanity -- to the place where Emmanuel (God with us) is so eager to be born anew.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Peace: sign of the disarmed heart -- December 23, 2009
One of the ironies of the Christmas season is that immediately after the birth of the Prince of peace, we get violence. The Feast of St. Stephen is on December 26; it commemorates an early witness to the faith who was stoned to death. December 28 is the Feast of the Holy Innocents -- who were the children that Herod ordered to be slaughtered upon hearing of the birth of a potential rival.
We live in a world of violence. There is physical violence -- which may or may not be on an increase; and verbal violence, which -- from my perspective, is most definitely on the rise.
Joan Chittister acknowledges the presence -- if not the reign, of violence in our world. And she talks of peace, which she identifies in chapter 14 as a sign of the disarmed heart. She acknowledges that peace is not something that is ever achieved, but is something "sincerely and consistently sought. It comes, in fact, from the seeking, not from the getting." (page 184)
Seeking peace, then is a commitment to spiritual discipline. It doesn't take away the violence -- or remove us from it. But the desire to seek peace, and to imagine peace -- enables us to live in the midst of violence -- without violence. And helps to generate peace.
I remember someone saying that the reason nuclear weapons have not been used against humanity since 1945 is because millions of people around the world have prayed that they not be used. That their intentional prayer for peace helps to create peace. I also remember Desmond Tutu thanking an American congregation for helping to end apartheid in South Africa. How did we do that, we silently asked. By praying that apartheid come to an end, he said quite clearly. He told a story of a nun in California who lived as a hermit. She wrote Archbishop Tutu a letter to tell him that she got up every morning at 2 am, and for an hour prayed in silence for an end to apartheid.
"They didn't stand a chance," Bishop Tutu said. "The powers of darkness didn't stand a chance against a nun praying in silence -- at 2 am, in California."
And we believed him.
We live in a world of violence. There is physical violence -- which may or may not be on an increase; and verbal violence, which -- from my perspective, is most definitely on the rise.
Joan Chittister acknowledges the presence -- if not the reign, of violence in our world. And she talks of peace, which she identifies in chapter 14 as a sign of the disarmed heart. She acknowledges that peace is not something that is ever achieved, but is something "sincerely and consistently sought. It comes, in fact, from the seeking, not from the getting." (page 184)Seeking peace, then is a commitment to spiritual discipline. It doesn't take away the violence -- or remove us from it. But the desire to seek peace, and to imagine peace -- enables us to live in the midst of violence -- without violence. And helps to generate peace.
I remember someone saying that the reason nuclear weapons have not been used against humanity since 1945 is because millions of people around the world have prayed that they not be used. That their intentional prayer for peace helps to create peace. I also remember Desmond Tutu thanking an American congregation for helping to end apartheid in South Africa. How did we do that, we silently asked. By praying that apartheid come to an end, he said quite clearly. He told a story of a nun in California who lived as a hermit. She wrote Archbishop Tutu a letter to tell him that she got up every morning at 2 am, and for an hour prayed in silence for an end to apartheid.
"They didn't stand a chance," Bishop Tutu said. "The powers of darkness didn't stand a chance against a nun praying in silence -- at 2 am, in California."
And we believed him.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
customs and traditions -- December 22, 2009
Customs and traditions help us see the connection between the human and the holy: "If there is no way to connect the normal with the wonderful, what can possibly give the little things in life spiritual meaning?" (page 173) These words have resonance with earlier passages in Chittister's book -- to live an ordinary life extraordinarily well.Silence is important. "Silence is an antidote to the turmoil that is manufactured to distract us from the important things of life." (page 171) Silence centers us -- and brings us closer to the divine. Custom and ritual (which are elements of spiritual practice) provide us with a lens to see the Divine.
We are a couple of days away from Christmas. A time when the power of the birth story breaks into the night silence -- and we carry out customs and traditions that both honor that story and bring us closer to it. Take note of the silence. Pay attention to the ritual -- a ritual that you engage in individually, as a family -- and/or as a community. It will serve as a reaching out to a God who is so eager to reach out to us.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Vocation -- December 21, 2009
In the novel Evensong by Gail Godwin, an Episcopal priest gives his wife, another Episcopal priest, his definition of vocation: "something is your vocation if it keeps making more of you."
As I read through Wisdom Distilled From the Daily, I keep thinking of vocation -- and what seems to be Joan Chittister's passion that each and every one of us claim the vocation that will keep making more of us. The Benedictine triangle of obedience, conversion of life and stability is designed so that the follower of the Rule will grow -- will be made more of. The second century theologian Iranaeus remarked that the glory of God is the human being fully alive. To be fully alive, it seems to me, is our vocation. As Joan Chittister puts it, "live life for something greater than your satisfactions and do not let anything or anyone cause you to lose hold on your free and unfettered self."
Instead of being constraining, the spiritual practice is liberating. Instead of shutting down our view of the world, it opens us up to the full complexity and the deep challenge of the world.
And takes us to the heart of God.
As I read through Wisdom Distilled From the Daily, I keep thinking of vocation -- and what seems to be Joan Chittister's passion that each and every one of us claim the vocation that will keep making more of us. The Benedictine triangle of obedience, conversion of life and stability is designed so that the follower of the Rule will grow -- will be made more of. The second century theologian Iranaeus remarked that the glory of God is the human being fully alive. To be fully alive, it seems to me, is our vocation. As Joan Chittister puts it, "live life for something greater than your satisfactions and do not let anything or anyone cause you to lose hold on your free and unfettered self."Instead of being constraining, the spiritual practice is liberating. Instead of shutting down our view of the world, it opens us up to the full complexity and the deep challenge of the world.
And takes us to the heart of God.
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