For All Saints

Here's the sermon I preached today for Creative Preaching. It's not going to come across well over writing, because it's basically a monologue and was done with lots of "acting" and blocking. I'm quite pleased to be using my acting training again (and my prof thinks it's great to hear a preaching student say that!). I hated this piece by the time I performed it, but then doing it for the people who'd never heard it, it came alive again and I was so pleased with it. They were too - and I think I really got them Evangelicals thinking about our brothers and sisters from times past and present! My teacher said I have "uncommon gifts" for this (meant positively), and lots of people said I should do it in church. Well I don't know what church wants a crazy character lady showing up on All Saints Day, but I guess I managed to pull it off. I am a slight bit concerned to let my Jewish friends know that I don't mean to imply that you are somehow less "perfect" without Jesus. It's a message for Christians, that we need to be in touch with our forebears in the faith, and that definitely includes the Jews. My character just happened to hail from the Maccabean era because that was referenced in my text (Hebrews 11:32-12:3). All the stories are true. Anyway, enough chatter, here's the text. Enjoy.

Fear Not!
A Sermon for All Saints’ Day

(sitting, center stage)

It was dark and cold in the cave, and I was afraid. You could hear water dripping quietly somewhere deep inside. We hadn’t been there long; we just came out on the Sabbath so that we could worship Adonai without fear.

I didn’t want to be involved in politics. I was busy with my son, my first child. But I knew I must have him circumcised even though it was against the new laws. I could not neglect the teachings of Adonai. He is our God and we are his people. And so, Joshua was circumcised, and I had to hide him in public.

But on Sabbath, our family – from my grandmother on down to my son – would join the other Hasidim and leave the city, traveling north through the hill country, and find a cave or a grassy rise, where we would rest and pray and enjoy food and company. This particular Sabbath, there were rumblings of a revolution among our group. I didn’t want to think about what could happen if these rumors were true. I’d seen what our leaders were capable of. The week before, two of our women were thrown from the walls of the city – babies at the breast! – for circumcising them.

As I said, it was dark, and cold, in the cave, and I was afraid. I sensed something in the air – a tension, anxiousness. And then I smelled it…a sickly sweet smell like meat burning…and I could hear popping and crackling…and then, the screams began washing over me. Suddenly the cave was full of light, and I could see orange flames dancing at the entrance, blocking our only way out. I began to rise, but grandmother grabbed my hand and pulled me down.

“Fear not,” she said. She held my hand all through it – as Joshua began to cry, and I muffled his mouth until he lay still. As I coughed and my eyes stung. As the men around us, unwilling to fight on our holy day, frantically prayed for deliverance. Grandmother held my hand and kept telling me, “Fear not, my child, fear not…”

With her words in my ears, I closed my eyes.

When I opened them, it was dark again.

(look around, still seated)

Where are we, Grandmother?
“This is our time to wait, my child. Are you afraid?”
No. What should we do, Grandmother?
“Do? There is nothing for us to do,” she smiled. “We are not the ones who will do this.”

I don’t know how long I was in that place. It never changed. There was no indication of day or night, or of time passing. We simply waited. And then…then…

(stand, loudly)

“Fear not!”

A man’s voice filled the space. We were nearly blinded by the light. When I could see again, I squinted up, into the kindest eyes I had ever seen. I reached forward and grasped his hand. I remember thinking it was odd, that this man was radiating light, but he was hurt. His wounds seemed so fresh.

I knew this was him – our deliverer, who would lead us to the new Jerusalem. He gathered us – all of us. He took us to a place that I cannot describe to you – even if there were words, you wouldn’t be able to imagine it.

And then I saw Grandmother, and she had that look on her face like she knew something. I asked what, and she told me, “I know what we are to do, my child.” I thought, "Do? Aren’t we finished doing? What could we possibly have left to do?!"

She didn’t answer, she simply pointed, and I noticed a group of people standing and looking at something. I walked over to join them.

(walk to upstage right)

Everything around me dissolved, and suddenly I was in a sort of gymnasium, but much larger than the one in Jerusalem. There were thousands of people around me. The air was heavy with human stink and the heat of the afternoon. I looked and I saw a woman behind one of the gates leading into the arena. She was about my age, and holding a baby. I instantly felt a rush of love for her.

She handed her baby to a man standing near her – a man who was pleading with her, wailing at her. But she was quiet and resolute, and walked forward into the arena surrounded by her maids. The crowd leapt to its feet, jeering and hurling insults at her. She closed her eyes, and despite all the noise, I could hear her praying to Adonai.

When she opened her eyes, the crowd around her had more than doubled. She could see us – cheering for her, crying out, “Fear not, Perpetua! Fear not! We are with you! We are here!”

She smiled that knowing smile that I’d seen on Grandmother’s face so many times, and I knew that no matter what they did to her body, she was with us now.

(walk to downstage left)

Another time, I saw a young man. He was standing in front of his father, and he was removing the rich clothing he wore, piece by piece, dropping it on the marble floor. A cool breeze from the palatial windows gave him a shiver as he stood unclothed. A servant was nearby, holding a simple brown cloak and sandals. The young man looked into his father’s eyes – the eyes of a man whom he loved and whom he had severely disappointed.

“Father, I won’t be going into your business, I…I…”

He faltered. One of my companions whispered in his ear: “Fear not, Francis. Fear not. The Lord is with you. We are with you too.”

And Francis took a deep breath, and explained to his father that he did not need the villa or the fancy clothes, that he desired nothing but his Brother Sun and his Sister Moon and his companions in God’s creation. He put on his cloak and sandals, turned on his heel, and walked out of that death, and into his life.

(back up to upstage left)

Years passed, and I found myself again with a jeering crowd, this time in a very cold and grey city. Ringing bells filled the air, mingling with the slurping noises made by feet in the mud, as people jostled for a spot close to the platform ahead. It was loaded with wood.

A man was shoved up there, and stood in the midst of the pile. Blackened teeth bared as the excitement of the crowd grew to a fever pitch. Then I smelled that familiar smell – the sickly sweet aroma of meat burning. And I heard crackling and popping, and I looked up and saw that the man had been set on fire. As the flames lapped at his feet, though, he was staring at his hand.

“Fear not, Thomas!” cried our group. “God’s people are here with you!”

Cranmer raised his eyes, and looked directly at us. I knew he could sense or even see us. Then he looked again at his hand…

“With this hand, I wrote the recantation of my beliefs. My hand wrote contrary to my heart.”

(make a fist, then plunge it into the “flames” below. Rise, move to downstage right)

One day, it was just me. Just me and the little woman, writing in her diary…

She wrote, “In my soul I feel just that terrible pain of loss, of God not wanting me — of God not being God — of God not existing.”

Oh…fear not, Teresa. I am here. God loves you. God is in those people that you serve. Don’t be afraid. Don’t give up.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply the spicy air, and opened them with new determination on her face. She rose, put on her simple white habit, and headed back out into the colorful bustle of Calcutta.

(back to center stage)

There are so many more stories to tell. I haven’t time for them all. But we want you to know them – they are yours. Our lives belong to Adonai, it’s true – but they also belong to you. There is something about my salvation and yours that is wrapped up in you knowing us, and us knowing you. We are not, apart from you, made perfect.

Of course the ultimate story is that of the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. All any of us wanted was to be like him. If our stories help you be like him, then our lives were worth the price.

Remember, Fear Not. We are with you. We want only what Adonai wants, and he wants you to join his kingdom of saints.

So lay aside every weight, and the sin that clings so closely, and surround yourself instead with the great cloud of witnesses. We will be here for you. We will be cheering for you.

Now…run.

It's All Because (The Gays Are Getting Married)

As one astute friend pointed out, they forgot to blame Canada...still, this is freaking genius.

Brain: Full

The GRE is over, and I don't have to take it again, thank God. I was proud of my writing (I totally lucked out and got to write about art for one essay, so that went straight to my interest/expertise) and as far as the other goes, I beat the minimums most of my schools require (600s) so I can rest easy knowing that at least my scores won't get my app thrown in the circular file. They're also not going to knock anybody out of their chair, which I'm dealing with (perfectionist side rearing ugly head: I far exceeded my real score on a practice test) as well as can be expected, for me. And hey, in the test environment you're of course going to do worse, because it's not your home couch. Plus I was sick and tired. And I swear the real test was way way harder than any of the practice stuff I'd taken, or the books I'd used for studying. At least the math was - but they gave me one of those annoying experimental sections, which was traumatizing, because I swear I didn't know even what they were asking on most of the questions. I'm pretty sure the first one they gave was the nonscored one, and it was horrible, so I was all shaken when it came time for the verbal (on which I was hoping to shine). But geez, I still cracked the 90th percentile, so I really shouldn't bitch and moan. Yeah, I could have done better, but I did well enough. The rest of the app is way more important anyway.

Speaking of applying places, I'll be visiting GTU and CDSP in a couple weeks, Nov. 8-10. So if any fellow feminarians are there I'd love to meet you. And I'll be at AAR too, checking out that scene for the first time. Woo hoo.

OK I have to do Hebrew now. This week it suddenly turned hard. I am sooooo miserable with it now. I don't know why - I guess my brain hit the full point and cramming more in just hurts. But that doesn't stop the exams coming. Bleh. Still, it will not defeat me. I just have to find the fun in it again. And put in a lot of time that I have neglected.

More on BSM

So I've been telling everyone I can about Black Snake Moan and how awesome it was and how surprising and all that. And I realized something else about it that's super meaningful: it takes an instrument of torture and abuse - the chain - and turns it into a lifeline, a symbol of hope and redemption.

Not unlike a cross.

Woooooo! How's that, Hollywood Jesus?! (he gets it too - as he usually does, these films)

Bleh

Last night I dreamed that I was taking practice GRE tests and I looked up and it was 5 mins until I was supposed to start the real GRE. I ran out in my pajamas with John in tow, and he's like, "We don't even know where the test center is!" (which is a throwback to the time he was supposed to take the GRE and forgot to check where he was going and missed the test entirely - not a dream, in real life) but I had checked enough times that I had an idea where we were going. And I was watching the clock anxiously as we drove (it's about 2 towns over) and miraculously it wasn't moving, but then it was like 1 minute until I was supposed to be there and we were parking and....

I don't quite know what happened, but then I was taking the GRE, and there was tons of Hebrew on it! And I was sucking at the Hebrew!! I've reached a bad place in that class - have fallen behind somehow, we're moving too quickly now - and I guess it's really stressing me out.

Imagine not only having to take the GRE, but having a bunch of Hebrew grammar show up on it! BLEH!!

2 films worth your while

We had the pleasure, this weekend, of watching two excellent films that – while they could not have had more different subject matter – were moving, important, fascinating, and worth every moment of the time we spent watching them (these days, with our busy schedules, that is about the highest compliment I can give a movie – I didn’t feel like I should really have been doing homework!). They elevate the medium to that level of art that is at times disturbing and always polarizing. They are both stories told using heightened reality but that reveal truth about the human condition. OK, no more suspense: here are my mini-reviews.

The first is Across the Universe, which we saw in the theater yesterday. I’ve been excited about this film since we first saw the trailer and our eyes bugged out. It looked so similar to Moulin Rouge!, my favorite flick of all time – plus, it was Julie Taymor, whose “Lion King” blew my mind. Well Universe does not disappoint, if these are to your taste. It is a full-blown musical, with definitely more singing than speaking, and a new song every few seconds. Of course, they are all Beatles songs, which is about the most genius thing ever. I am not as much of a Beatles fan as J, so he was catching lots of little references that I missed (e.g. the character named Max banging with a silver hammer, another character trying to draw a half an apple – the logo from their label, and more we keep tracking down and/or remembering), but I tell you, it made me appreciate their music all the more. You really realize how truly masterful their melodies and words are, because they can be sped up, slowed down, and completely rearranged and still make beautiful music. J even preferred several of the movie arrangements to the originals, because he “finally understood some of the lyrics.” Yes, many people are complaining about covers of Beatles songs never living up to the originals; I am glad that the band is not so sacred to me that I can’t see the genius in many of these arrangements. It made me like the Beatles more than I previously did, and gain a new respect for their songwriting abilities. I understand it’s doing the same for a new generation never exposed to their music.

I just found myself going along for a completely enjoyable ride. I’m not at all surprised that teenage girls are seeing this movie in packs – I kept thinking, if I were in high school, this would be my favorite film. It plays wonderfully to the teenager in me, but that’s not to say that it lacks deep resonance (the teenager in me is smart, anyway). The comparisons between the war in Viet Nam and our present conflict are unmistakable, and the climate of the film feels eerily familiar. A scene in which men are marching across the fields, carrying the Statue of Liberty, and singing “She’s so heavy,” was extremely poignant. The song “Let it Be” is also used to tremendous effect as a gospel funeral dirge – it was possibly the most moving moment of the film.

The characters are all, as is well known by now, named for persons in Beatles songs, and many of their anthems are sung (but not all, so some of the mystery is retained). The singing overall was outstanding (perhaps with the exception of Evan Rachel Wood who was a bit weaker than the rest but certainly adequate). It is a terrific cast, but of course, the direction and the overall mood of the piece really steal the show. I am a sucker for bright colors and psychedelic situations – I love a heightened reality, something that can’t be done in any other medium than a motion picture. It is unexpected to see something so strange as masks and androgynous white-painted bodies floating in the water and find your heart breaking. But that’s Taymor’s gift – she uses unusual materials – including the songs – to create an artwork unlike anything you’ve seen that is both surprising and moving.

If it’s not apparent, I heartily recommend this film, especially as something to see with teenage daughters. It’s even PG-13 (there’s some brief nudity, mostly from the side – and less nipple than Titanic – and there’s as much male as female!).

OK, moving on. This next one is going to be a surprise. But I can’t deny that it’s among the best films I’ve seen in recent years.

The movie is called Black Snake Moan. You may remember its ad campaign, prominently featuring a scantily-clad Christina Ricci tied with a chain to Samuel L. Jackson. Hm. What was I thinking?

Well I am not sure why I rented it, but I am so glad I saw this movie. I don’t know who I can really recommend it to – it is too much for most people I know. The nudity and sex offends conservatives, and the misogyny offends liberals. Why did I love such a piece of trash?

Because this movie drags you through the filth and the mud to arrive at a point. It is not gratuitously chaining up characters or beating the hell out of them. It is a film about personal hell, about exorcising demons. Every character has their pain to work through. And it will take us to the deepest darkness of each before it lets us into the light (and the light does come, at precisely the right moment).

The situations are heightened reality, not of the happy break-into-song variety (although it is a musical of sorts, with ingenious use of blues music), but of the fairy tale or fable sort that make their mark by showing us something that makes us extremely uncomfortable, makes us think, makes us hate or root for characters. There are characters of light and of dark, and some that journey between.

The main characters – Ricci and Jackson – are purposely paired to make us uncomfortable and disapproving at every turn. She’s young, he’s old. She’s white, he’s black. She’s tiny, he’s large. She’s like a cat in heat, he’s full of anger. She’s been abandoned and betrayed by everyone who should love her and…so has he. Or so he thinks (his wife, at least, has left him for his brother).

They save each other. She gives him a purpose, something to love and to care for, someone who he – at first – can dominate, but later learns to let go. Exactly what he needs. And she gains someone she fears and is required to mind (which she actually needs), and eventually a guardian who protects her and accepts her even in her damaged state.

About that infamous chaining up of the woman. It’s grotesque, yes. It’s inappropriate. Of course it is – that is the point. I believe it is more about the abductor’s issues than those of the one who is chained. And in a very strange way, it becomes a safety net for Ricci’s character, who begins to see it as her lifeline – her only chance at escaping a life of abuse and error. This is so important to her that it becomes her symbol of redemption, something she embraces fully as her salvation. This is not a case of a woman falling wrongly for her kidnapper or abuser – the film comes out strongly against abuse, and their relationship remains strictly on the level of a true father-figure. Jackson is not harming her – he saves her. And she knows it.

The greatest compliment to the movie was that my husband didn’t think it was too long. He thinks everything is too long – even films he enjoys watching (like Universe). But every single scene was germane, every shot carefully planned, and they all added together to tell a precise story that was pitch-perfect in tone and pacing. The music – oh! the music! – was a revelation. Not unlike my new appreciation for the Beatles, I now also feel I’ve had a little glimpse into the depth of the blues. The director mentioned in one of the interviews on the disc that the blues is about “sex, God, and the relationships between a man and a woman,” and that’s pretty much a sum of the film too.

So if you can handle pretty raunchy stuff, I can’t recommend this film highly enough. It is probably going on my top ten list. I think the best descriptor we came up with was to think of it as Pulp Fiction – with all that film’s darkness, over-the-top sadism, and discomfort – meets Tender Mercies (a film with a wonderful redemption story but is pretty inaccessible to present audiences – it’s just too slow). Yes, it skewers the South; it skewers racial relations; it skewers relationships between men and women. It holds nothing sacred. Or so you think – until you realize that forgiveness and redemption are possible. And guess who helps with that? Yep, the preacher. God’s love wins over these seemingly unforgiveable sinners. In the end it is God to whom they turn (represented by his man in the church), who encourages them to bring their pain into the light so they can move past it.

The greatest thing is that the film does not neatly wrap up – there is a happy ending, but the demons are still there, lurking. The depths of the abuse and trauma suffered by these characters is not going to be wiped away in one happy day. They will still deal with it. But they learn to deal with it. They learn how to keep living – and more importantly, how to keep it from destroying their lives.

It’s simply one of the best redemption fables ever told. Keep in mind that it’s not supposed to be literal – and you will find yourself drawn in and, ultimately, deeply moved.

Happy World Food Day!

It's a two-for-one because today is a very special day - World Food Day! The theme this year is the right to food. Boy, what an obvious yet ignored issue.

Here's a great article about it, and a preview to whet your whistle:

That simple truth explains what otherwise is of course mind-boggling: Though the planet produces enough calories to make every one of us chubby, 854 million are hungry, up from 830 million six years ago according to the United Nations. Here at home where 13,000 calories a day are produced in grain alone for each of us, market dogma leaves millions hungry: 36 million Americans are food insecure -- that's more than the entire population of Canada.
...
And, because the poor can't exert "market demand," 70 percent of the world's agricultural land is devoted to grazing and crops that become feed for factory-farmed animals -- all to produce meat priced beyond the affordability of the poor and hungry.
...
Economists generally agree that once four companies control 40 percent or more of a market, real competition -- what consumers and farmers rely on for fair prices and practices -- is shot.
Consider that today the four largest beef processors control 81 percent of the market or that the four largest grain processors control 80 percent of the soybean market. One company -- Monsanto -- controls more than 90 percent of the market for genetically modified seeds and Wal-Mart collects an estimated one in four food dollars spent in the United States.

And well it goes on but you probably know if you want to read it by now - it does end on a hopeful note with stories of success in developing countries. I love the Lappes' writing - always inspirational and challenging.

My friends, today is a day to be thankful if we have full bellies and to chastise ourselves if we are eating crap (case in point: I am eating overcooked (but organic!) ramen noodles at the moment. I shall roundly self-chastise and go find something much more wholesome). Go eat something delicious and thank the provider for it! And then, consider moving towards buying more organic food, and buying food locally or fair trade if it's from far away, and check out Bread for the World if you want to get ideas for shaping national food policies.

We are blessed with wonderful provision, especially in our bodies that can smell, taste, and use what we eat to keep us going! How marvelous that our simple daily act of eating can remind us of the love of our creator.

Bless our hearts to hear
in the breaking of bread
the song of the universe

Father John Giuliani
The Benedictine Grace
West Redding, CN
From "100 Graces" by Marcia & Jack Kelly

Whoa

Well I got my hit counter for last week and I dropped by half! Geez! I guess that's what I deserve for ignoring the blog. It's not that I have nothing to say, it's just that some things can't be talked about in this forum (most of what's on my mind these days, actually), and I'm so busy trying to get ready for the GRE and get applications put together, plus there's that little matter of the 12 hours of classes I'm taking. So the blog suffers. But I hate to see such a drop in readership so I cave and write when I should study.

Read an excellent book by Jana Childers called Performing the Word. It's an examination of preaching (and eventually worship) as theater, how to use the tools of the actor to improve sermons. It's a lot of stuff I already did without realizing it, thanks to my theater training. A fun read. Plus, she seems to have been trained by the same person I had at Wheaton - Jim Young. Ah, Jimma. Those are some memories.

Anyway, she's up at GTU, which is presently tops on my list of grad schools primarily because I met Louis Weil who is a complete darling. Unfortunately he's retiring soon, so I have to find some other people to like up there. Am planning to visit Nov. 8-9 (maybe stick around for the weekend, we'll see). My preaching prof actually did his PhD there, in (get this): Theology and the Arts with an Emphasis in Worship and Proclamation. Whew. That's a whole lotta degree. They don't do it anymore, either, which is a shame since it would probably be great for me too. But hopefully I can cobble something together that's similar.

My ideas for the PhD are becoming more sacramental and Christian (focused on Eucharistic theology) and less interfaith these days. At least, that's my approach with the GTU and the Catholic schools. There's still this wonderful guy in Canada who does exactly what I want to do, and if I get in with him, then all's good. But J keeps pointing out that the interfaith/food things might not keep my attention and/or be what I want to study for many years. I don't really know. I'm not entirely sure taht what I enter thinking I'll study will be what I wind up studying! Some people say that's OK - I don't have to know yet. I'm listening to those people. GTU seems to want me to know exactly what I'm doing - they even ask for a plan for my doctorate already! But I'm like, let's be open to seeing what I might discover in preliminary research, and go from there. Some places like that (I'm certainly "teachable") but others not so much. Ah, it's all quite confusing.

On the plus side, zeroing in on Eucharistic theology has opened up a few more places - such as the Holy Grail of Notre Dame (tho I really don't expect to get in there!). But it does put me more in the line of eventually teaching at seminary instead of secular university. And maybe that's ok. I just love the work I did at USC so much, and I still want to do religious life stuff that's interfaith, if at all possible. My mentors in that field say that it doesn't much matter what my PhD is in, as long as I have one. So it still might work out.

And anyway I'm not sure I'm that opposed to teaching at seminary. Taking this creative preaching class - and the feedback from my prof - is really convincing me that homiletics is a special area for me. I'm incredibly blessed with gifts in it. Now a big part of it is that theater background, which makes me "perform" differently than almost every preacher at my school. But I am also blessed with the writing ability, and, of all things, that natural curiosity about texts and situations from which good exegesis and application are born.

I have no idea if I could teach preaching - sometimes the best actors make bad directors, and the same may hold true in this field. Rarely is someone very gifted at doing an art form as well as teaching it. But I gotta say, I love it so much. It is really one of the most fun things I get to do - especially when they let me run with it like in this creativity class. My prof of course would be thrilled if I wanted to study proclamation - he'd send me to Childers, or to Bartow at Princeton, or preferably keep me for himself (which is something he's been talking about since my first year at Fuller!) - but I just don't know. I can see a future teaching ritual and religion & culture; I don't know about teaching preaching. I don't know about sitting through all those bad sermons!! Oh, I am naughty.

Anyway, the morning is getting away from me, so I should close. If you are one of those blessed readers who prays for me, I need support on the GRE prep and getting all the rest done (the next month is just insane) for applications, and then there's the wait for the answer! And I'm also really tired and feeling flu-ey, which I'm trying to ignore, but it's difficult. Pray I'll feel 100% again soon. I don't think it will happen overnight, but hopefully I'll pull out of this slump in a few weeks. The church situation continues to be confusing and upsetting - J has now reached the point of being very sad about the whole thing, and I feel bad about that. Looks like we are probably going to pull way back and spend some time at our old church. I'm hoping, if they need it, to maybe help out with some stuff up front - like the MC or verger stuff. I think if this whole ordination thing never works out, I might be really happy serving as a verger. Yeah. So if they have room for me in that, then I'll probably just go back there full time, at least until whatever happens in the next stage of life............

Horror of Horrors! Worse than Bunnies!

As Marti Noxon sang...

"I'm asking you please no...
It isn't right, it isn't fair..."

Where do we go from here?

The Buffy Musical has had its plug pulled. And I HAD TICKETS - 6, in fact, because I rock - for the super-sold-out Dec. 7 show in LA. OH, I am SO disappointed! I was really really looking forward to this!

If you are a fan of the show, please sign this petition (http://www.petitionspot.com/petitions/BuffyMusical) asking Fox to get the rights stuff straightened out soon so the show can go on!

Please, Fox, Give Me Something to Sing About!!

I am easily amused

(click on the images for purchase info!)

Ups and Downs (in sermon form)

So today was another preaching day - in class, "Creative Preaching" to be exact, which is like "pour on the pressure" to really knock one out of the park. Plus I'm trying to find a sermon to submit for the preaching awards here - a petty and silly desire to be noticed, but I still want to try. I'm trying not to put any stock in it. But I want to put forth a worthy effort. So that's in the back of my mind as I write each now.

Anyway, there is one annoying thing we do in the preaching classes: we give all the good feedback first and then the constructive (eh-hem) feedback at the end. So you leave class feeling sour about what you just did, no matter how many positive comments came your way first. Yucko. And my criticism was a particularly annoying one, because it was based on most of the class completely mishearing something I said (I was so thrown at the time that I didn't even have the presence of mind to figure out that's what had happened).

While I don’t think that their actual critique is justified (being based on a mishearing of my words), it is an important lesson that whatever we preach can always be twisted around to mean something we didn’t intend. I am not sure how we avoid that as preachers – except to never say anything controversial, but I don’t believe that is biblical! Still, it is good to be aware of this problem. I think it would be helped by having more history with the audience so that I knew how to speak to them and not be misunderstood. They don't know me well and I don't know them, and we all have our own issues! :)

Another thought is that preaching in a creative style opens our words up to more risks like this. If I had said the statement straightforwardly, it would have been understood; putting it in poetic language made it more fluid and open to misunderstanding. This is something to remain aware of. I don’t think it will stop me from preaching poetically, but I have to know in advance that miscommunication is more possible.

Anyway I know I need to let this go. But right now I'm hurt. I just hate being misunderstood. It's one thing if I say something sassy and piss people off knowingly. It's quite different to be accused of something you didn't intend. But that's what I learned about this summer, isn't it? That the intent of the Author is Dead. Damn. Stupid postmodern hermeneutics.

OK, I will now get to the good stuff, which is the sermon. This is quite possibly my favorite one I ever did. I loved writing it and even more loved performing it. It took tons of rehearsal to get it just right and I covered huge amounts of emotional terrain. I can't really even express it to you correctly in this format, but I love sharing my sermons so I'm going to put it up anyway. Plus, now you can play the fun game of trying to figure out what people misunderstood! Yay!

But in all seriousness, if you have a nice feeling or thought reading it, or it moves you in some way, I would really really covet that feedback. Yes, covet it, in the sad breaking-the-commandment way. Just because this one had my heart and soul in it. Not only that, but it made me cry nearly every time I read it - because the words in it were such a gift. I felt humbled that God gave me these things to say. And yeah, I guess I'm just saying I am proud of it. I'm usually more reticent about tooting my horn. But this time, God provided, and I was there to write it down and later speak it. Thanks be to God.

So here it is (now that I've built it up you're expecting Barbara Brown Taylor - yikes!). Hope it speaks to you like it has to me. But even if not, hey, it's spoken pretty awesomely to me. And that's a gift.

How Do You Preach with a Broken Heart?
A Sermon based upon Psalm 73 (click on "Psalter" and scroll down to 73. or don't. whatever.)

How do you preach with a broken heart?
When all you taste is salty tears
All you see is inky gloom
All you hear is a slamming door,
And a bolt sliding to.

Or maybe I am overstating the case...
(I can be a bit dramatic)
But we mustn’t pretend that we are somehow safe
That just because we are Proclaimers of the Word of God
We’ll have an easy go of it.

Preachers’ hearts break too.
Preachers’ parents die.
Preachers’ children get trapped in addiction.
Preachers’ spouses are diagnosed with cancer.
Preachers miscarry.

Sometimes it’s not personal.
Our vision for the church shatters to pieces.
Our ordination is blocked at every turn.
Our denomination splits.
And no matter how many times we preach the basics of the faith
Our congregants still don’t seem to get it.

(more energy)
And why, oh, why, are those preachers
with their false Jesus
pushing self-help feel-good nonsense
have they even read the gospels?
Why does everybody follow them?
Why are they on TV and we’re struggling to inspire a congregation of 15 eighty-year-olds?
Why do they have bestselling books and we barely have time to scribble down a sermon?

(rise to peak)
Lord I try and I try my very best to follow your will!
But there are all these…people
People around me, messing everything up!
How can they be so self-absorbed, so mean-spirited, so…stupid??
Where’s that wrath I hear about? Can we get some lightning bolts down here??

(calm)
No.
We don’t really want God to hurt anyone.
But we don’t get why God lets us get hurt.
Why God lets people – and pain – get in the way.
Stopping us short.
Robbing us blind.
Of whatever faith and hope
We might have had left.

But as for me, my feet had nearly slipped;
I had almost tripped and fallen.
Because I envied the proud
And saw the prosperity of the wicked:
For they suffer no pain and their bodies are sleek and sound.

In the misfortunes of others they have no share – they are not afflicted as others are!
They wear their pride like a necklace
And wrap their violence about them like a cloak.
Their iniquity comes from gross minds
And their hearts overflow with wicked thoughts.
They scoff and speak maliciously
Out of their haughtiness they plan oppression.
They set their mouths against the heavens,
And their evil speech runs through the world.

And so
The people turn to them
And find in them no fault.

And they say,
“How should God know? Is there knowledge in the Most High?”

So then, these are the wicked;
Always at ease, they increase their wealth.

(cynical)
Why do we bother?
In a world so broken
Loneliness lurking in every corner
Emptiness filling every crevice
Despair dangling every creature
from puppet-strings
in an unending parody of real life.


(angry)
In vain have I kept my heart clean!
In vain, washed my hands in innocence!
I have been afflicted all day long!
And punished every morning!!

(BEAT; collect self)
No.
I can’t say these things.
Not out loud.
Not to you…not to those to whom I preach.
How could they bear it?
How could I let anyone know
That I am human too?
That I hurt and I doubt and I question and I have really really bad days.
That sometimes it all seems like a big cosmic joke
And we
You and me, friends,
We are the biggest fools of all.

The truth is:
We are human first
And artists afterwards.[1]

(sigh)
Had I gone on speaking this way
I should have betrayed the generation of your children.

When I tried to understand these things,
It was too hard for me.

(a ray of light)
Until I entered the sanctuary of God…
Until I entered the sanctuary of God…
Until I entered the sanctuary of God…

Until I entered
The Real.

There is a real world.
It is here.
It is at hand.
And from it, we can see forever.

In the sanctuary of God
The world turns rightside-up.
When we go to worship
That is Real.

God reaches out and offers Godself for our taking.
We hear the Word in the scriptures, in proclamation.
We enact the Word, in prayer, forgiveness, reconciliation, passing peace.
We see the Word, we touch it, we feast upon it, at the Table of Jesus.

(rise to peak)
I entered the sanctuary of God
And joined the heavenly banquet
And I held God’s love
– God’s deep, abiding, undying, unfathomable, unbreakable love –
I held it in the palm of my hand.
And I ate. And I
was Filled.

(normal)
I discerned the end of the wicked –
Surely, you set them in slippery places!
You cast them down in ruin!
Oh, how suddenly do they come to destruction!
Come to an end, and perish from terror!
Like a dream when one awakens, O Lord,
When you arise, you will make their image vanish.

(apologetic)
When my mind became embittered,
I was sorely wounded in my heart.
I was stupid and had no understanding; I was like a brute beast in your presence.

(more energy – duh!)
Oh, I’ve been so off base.
I am not alone in my frustration! I am not alone in my pain!
Who faced more ignorance than you, Lord, when you sojourned on the earth?
What could be more disheartening than thrusting
the Divine dance of Love
into the midst of insulated, boorish humanity?

I was stupid and had no understanding.
Help me understand, Lord.

(slowly, realizing)
I am always with you;
you hold me by my right hand.
You will guide me by your counsel, and afterwards receive me with glory.

Whom have I in heaven but you?
and having you I desire nothing upon earth.
Though my flesh and my heart should waste away,
God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever.

(personal)
I only need God’s approval.
My deepest desire is for God.
It is not for ordination
It is not for a full church
It is not for health
It is not for wealth
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And having you I desire nothing upon earth.

(preach to them; rise to peak)
When we are suffering
And our path is dark
And the Light does not seem able to overcome it
When those around us hate us and mock us and thwart us
And the earth fights back against our abuse
And our relationships rip to shreds
In our confusion
In our frustration
In our anguish
We cry out,
“Abba! Let this cup pass from me!”

(pause, with quiet intensity) We are never closer to our Savior than in that moment.

Jesus faced the violence of this damaged planet
With no weapon but his weakness
With no bargain but his body
With no scheme but his sacrifice
With no directive but his divine definition
as Love incarnate.

What else could we expect to happen
To the ultimate self-Giver
Laid bare before the bitter disjointed shambles
of this world?

BEAT

In this world, even as preachers,
- especially, perhaps -
We can’t help but be hurt
We can’t escape it

Maybe there is a reason
And maybe there is not
Maybe we are proven strong and trustworthy
In our trials and tribulations
Or maybe it’s just a hurricane
Stirred up by the wing
of a butterfly.

In the end, all we can do is choose
Between frustration
And formation.
Between shaking our fist at the heavens
And inviting the potter to mold us anew.

It is good for me to be near God;
I have made the Lord GOD my refuge.
And I will never stop speaking
of the works of my Lord.

(rise to peak)
If we dive into Christ’s passion
We will form a seamless union
Of our soul’s deep longing for wholeness
With our God’s deep longing for closeness
And the world’s wounds will be soothed
By the balm of a Word of truth
Uttered from a silent cross and an empty tomb.

In that holy kinship
May we find ourselves inspired
To do as our Savior did
To absorb the violence
And grieve with the suffering
To be ignored with the powerless
And be stifled with the meek
For in this way, we will preach
Not only with our lips
But in our lives.

And that, my friends,
is how you preach
out of your broken heart.

[1] Paraphrase of a quote from Evelyn Underhill.

For The Bible Tells Me So - Trailer

This film is playing at the Nuart in LA from Oct. 8-12. Other showings and DVD info available at the website (http://www.forthebibletellsmeso.org/)

Really not sticky sweet

Last night I was sitting in a theatre waiting for that magical moment when the lights go down, the chatter quiets, and a room holds its breath – not sure what will come next, not knowing if they will be challenged or changed, enlightened or disgusted. I love the seconds before a play starts. There are no commercials or trailers, there’s usually not popcorn munching, and most everyone has remembered to turn off their cell phones and leave their toddlers at home. But more than that, a live theatrical production offers something a film simply never could: the potential for spontaneity. What I was about to see had never before existed, and would never again happen, not exactly as it would that night. There is something deeply powerful in that awareness: something that causes us to keep giving theater a chance, no matter how much more it costs than movies or how difficult it is to find something of quality. We give in because we know that it is only we – those strangers gathered with us in the dark – who will ever, ever experience this piece of art in just this way. Giving over to this sort of event is risky. No matter how many reviews you may read (including this one), no one can prepare you for exactly what you will encounter, because no one will encounter exactly what you will.

I pondered these things as I watched Canned Peaches in Syrup, a world premiere production from the Furious Theatre Company (in residence at the Pasadena Playhouse’s Carrie Hamilton Theatre). Last fall, I fell hard for this company’s production of Grace, a beautiful work from a former seminary student about shallow faith, doubt, and truly finding God. In the spring, Furious presented An Impending Rupture of the Belly, which was one of the most disparaged works of art I’ve encountered – at least by the Fuller folks who saw it. Surprisingly, the show enjoyed an extended run, and was met with huge enthusiasm from most of its audiences. I began to wonder: what is the disconnect here? Are people “of the world” so mired in sin and anger that they can’t recognize something offensive or shocking-for-shock’s-sake? Or has Fuller entombed even its artists in a bubble of protection from challenge and the sometimes-ugly realities of the world? I don’t know the answer; I just know that Canned Peaches, should people from Fuller choose to see it, will likely evoke similarly divergent responses.

For me, Peaches fell somewhere in between the other productions on the scale of my preference. Where Grace was luminous, nudging softly towards faith, Peaches presents a hard-edge take on the extremes of religion: people are divided into sheep who blindly follow an antiquated faith and anarchists who revel in chaos and violence. Anyone who saw Belly will recall the coarse language, violence, and some crude moments; Peaches goes further with the language, crude subject matter, and fighting, yet it somehow feels more germane to the situation in this play. Written by Alex Jones and directed by Dámaso Rodriguez (who also directed the other two plays mentioned), Peaches is set in a post-apocalyptic future, sometime after global warming has destroyed most of creation, where people live in a state of constant fear and mistrust, unable to think beyond their next meal and soothing their sun-baked skin. It is probably what Deadwood would be like were it set in the (bad news) sequel to An Inconvenient Truth.

The characters are interesting and well-played. Great fun is had with Blind Bastard, a “holy man” who confidently preaches in a rhyming religious mashup like some foul-mouthed Lloyd Olgivie. Dana J. Kelly, Jr. gives a solid performance in the role, making you squirm and realize, at the same time, the power and responsibility that comes with having religious authority. Standout performances also include Ma (Laura Raynor) and Heather (Libby West), as polar opposite women both struggling to survive, manifesting their fear and faith in very different ways. In the final scenes of the play, we see how far they will go to stay alive, and how broken they have become as a result of the broken world around them.

Many of the situations are heightened explorations of life events: falling in love, craving connection, losing faith, betrayal, abuse, and jockeying for power and possessions. It is truly a glimpse of hell on earth – bleak and depressing, angry and dangerous. Yet there are signs of the positive: humor, love, family. You can’t help but want to see what happens – when people are at their worst, when their hope is gone, and when their faith has proved shallow and pointless, what will they choose? Will love conquer all? Will some kind of connection be made in this world that has “forgotten how to love”? Or will chaos win out, and evil reign?

Despite its raising interesting questions, I cannot recommend this play to most people at Fuller, especially after the response to Belly (which I thought went a little overboard - get over the swearing, for fuck's sake!). It even comes with an “Audience Advisory” on the first page of the program: “The advertised performance contains material likely to offend those sensitive to simulated cannibalism, crude human behavior, bad words and the coming apocalypse” (I almost wonder if the responses of previous Fuller groups inspired this warning label!). It is a true and fair warning. The audience must have a strong stomach – within the first moments there is simulated vomiting, and the characters discuss their excrement at length. But these are not glib additions: most of the people in this world are very sick, and their expulsions clue them in to their condition.

As I watched what was taking place, live, a few feet in front of me, I was reminded anew of the power of theater to pull us into another world – one from which we may desperately need to escape after two hours. There was nothing in this play that you wouldn’t see on an HBO show or in an R-rated movie. If you enjoy Deadwood or Six Feet Under or Sex and the City, you really can’t complain about the content. And yet, there is something different about it happening right before our eyes, and that is why it is not for everyone.

My main disappointment with the play was that, while it closed on a note of hope in human connection (if we can just love each other, the world will be healed!), it reinforced the idea that crossing group boundaries is not advisable. Those who attempt to relate outside their assigned box are punished, and in the end we find ourselves back in the same polarized world in which we began. Although some of the characters learn lessons about friendship and connection, others give in to fear and doubt, circling the wagon (literally) and refusing to trust. But even in that situation, there is evidence of influence from “the Other,” in the end. We cannot help but be touched – and likely changed – when we encounter those different from ourselves.

And that is the lesson that I think we Christians can take from exposure to difficult art. While we may not understand, can we find a way to relate – or at least listen – to a culture that believes and behaves quite differently from us? How can we bring the hope of the gospel into that world, if we know nothing of it? Art often reaches into the depths as well as the heights of what it means to be human. So I am willing to keep risking myself at the theatre, ready to be challenged and changed, enlightened and disgusted.

***

The world premiere of Canned Peaches in Syrup, presented by the Furious Theatre Company, is currently running through November 10 at the Carrie Hamilton Theatre, 39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena (at Pasadena Playhouse). www.savethepeaches.com

I am here, you are here

That was a word from this morning's sermon, a word on how to start praying if you aren't sure how (or even sure if anybody will listen).

It bookends nicely with what I learned from Thich Nhat Hanh yesterday, who offered us a breathing meditation that was (in breath) I am here; (out breath) I am now. And (in breath) I have arrived; (out breath) I am home.

Where have I arrived? In the here and now. "The address of the kingdom of God is the here and now. The Kingdom is now or never."

Incredibly astute observation from a Buddhist monk using Christian terminology. My other favorite statements were:
"Many people think they have to die to enter the kingdom of God. In fact, we have to be very alive."
"The kingdom of God is always available to us. We, most often, are not available to it."

We are too busy to notice God all around us, beckoning us to experience Him or Her in the present moment, through the beauty of creation - ourselves included - that, some theologians say, exists because the love of God was so great that it overflowed and the world was born.

Yesterday's peace walk was incredible. I had such an awareness of God's presence as I sat among several hundred Angelenos (necessarily a wild bunch) and we all breathed together, in and out, becoming aware of our bodies, letting go of our tensions, imagining our "Father within" and "Mother within" (the teacher's words). I lost it when he used that term, and I suddenly had a feeling of breathing in sync with the Sustainer of the Universe. That's heavy stuff.

Yet, it is there for the taking. The kingdom is at hand. We are welcome to its bounty. We are invited to its reality. Hanh said he likes the definition that God is "happiness" (which would include Love) (and actually, according to the philosophical definition of happiness as flourishing, may be quite apt). God is happiness. And God is available 24/7.

I have been striving to live in each moment ever since that blessed event. I find that the vast majority of moments in my life are quite benign, with nothing harming or threatening me, and thus I can be quite content if I remain in the present, not allowing the past or future to tyrranize me with worry or regret. Of course this is a huge discipline right now and will take time to make habitual. But I think it is worth it.

Part of me resists, pointing out that if we ignore the past we are doomed to repeat it (plus I love history), and if we don't plan ahead we can't get anything done. But then I think perhaps that doesn't matter all that much. Jesus seems to be about living in the moment: he tells us not to think about what we will eat or drink or wear, or to worry about tomorrow. It all seems to fit nicely.

So the service this morning was wonderfun (ha ha - I'm leaving that 'cause it's a great typo). I visited All Saints (BH) because I had to get J at the airport so I was on that side of town. Oh, it hit me hard, to be back in the full-blown liturgy. I cried during the creed of all things, simply because of the deep sense of homecoming I feel every time I am in that church. But the music was the best. Oh, I couldn't even sing the hymns, not out loud, but my heart sang and I just let the beautiful music wash over me and through me. It sang my heart's song - both the words and the ineffable quality that music - or any art - can express uniquely. Yes, it was very good to be in the temple of the Lord this morning.

After the service I was greeted and loved on by lots of people. It was just what I needed. The Holy Spirit had done some preparatory work for my visit, quite to my surprise, and folks knew about what has been going on and were ready to support me. That was amazing. I hadn't even tried to put the word there, but God blesses the words that go out over cyberspace. I'm so grateful. The fact that the rector of a huge congregation would stop and talk to me for several minutes on a Sunday morning, when she should be "making the rounds" - well that meant more than I can say. In fact, it's the point of the Good Samaritan story, isn't it? To set aside the duties - even and especially religious ones - for the needy, broken person who is before us in the moment. And now we're back to the Buddha's wisdom. I have a lot to learn from that religion, I tell ya.

Then I got to pick up my hubs, and the world seems quite right again, at least in this moment, which is where I am. I am here. And God is here too. And we are walking this journey, one moment at a time. How gracious that is. No matter what has happened, or will happen, I am blessed in this moment. Thanks be to God.


Two more things:
A book recommended in church today, "The Water Will Hold You: A Skeptic Learns to Pray," by Lindsey Crittenden, sounds wonderful. Check it out. It is where the "I am here, You are here" prayer comes from.

I joked with a reader of this blog how much we hate that J writes such great sermons; how he's so naturally gifted without any training that it makes us nuts. Well, when I told J this story, he said he wished he'd been there, because he would have told this person that the only reason he's good is that he tries to write sermons like you. He actually writes, and reads, hearing your voice in his head. I wanted you to know. :)

How the sermon turned out

So here is the sermon that my husband preached on Sunday. He had more ideas than I did about the passage, and so I figured it made more sense for him to just preach them instead of me attributing half my sermon to him. Thought you might like to see it. Another strong one from the guy who hasn't studied this stuff (outside hearing it all his life). Gotta hate him.

A Sermon for the Seventeenth Sunday After Pentecost
September 23, 2007
PROPER 20, YEAR C

I speak and we hear in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Our collect for today says “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love heavenly things; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure.”

Fear not! You have nothing to be anxious about because “Jesus Christ our Lord lives and reigns” and his kingdom shall endure for ever and ever. Amen. And our Psalm for today tell us the source of Christ’s power to rule his kingdom is love. The Psalm for today ends with the glorious declaration that it is God’s love that endures forever (Psalm 138:9).

But the Psalm begins with a different declaration. The Psalmist says that he will worship Yahweh “before all the gods” (138:1). Before all the gods? What could this mean for us today? Who are the other gods in America today? Our gods are not Baal and Asherah as they were for the ancient Canaanites. And our gods are not Apollo and Artemis as they were for the First Century Greeks. Our gods are Mammon and Caesar – money and power.

We are like those upon whom the prophet Amos pronounced God’s judgment – those who wish they could hurry up and get worship over with so that they may get back to their everyday business of making money.

Worshiping Yahweh is all well and good, but it won’t put food on the table. (Which is, by the way, another way of saying that the food God does put on the Table during worship is not really food.) So we wonder “When will the new moon be over so that we may sell grain; and the Sabbath, so that we may offer wheat for sale?” (Amos 8:5). When will this worship service be over? I’ve got some stuff to get at the mall. When will this liturgy be finished? I’ve got work to do back at the office.

Jesus is right: “You cannot serve God and money”. Can’t be done. It’s impossible. “No one can serve two masters”. We think we’re serving God, but because we love our money so much, we end up hating God, resenting him.

What does God mean he’s angry that I’m “buying the poor for silver and the needy for a pair of sandals” (Amos 8:6)? I really need a new pair of sandals! And its not my fault that the Nike people only pay their workers a few cents a day. Plus, these sandals are really cool. Come on, God, what’s your problem? Get with it!

“No one can serve two masters. For a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth” (Luke 16:13).

So what about the parable of the dishonest steward? Many people have a hard time understanding this parable because it seems to make not only wealth but dishonest wealth look good. The manager goes around cooking the books and the master ends up praising him for it. It looks like Jesus is commending greed and theft. How could that be?

Now, we do have a bad habit of interpreting every parable allegorically so that God is always the master and we are always the servants. But not all parables are supposed to be allegories where every character is a symbol of something.

Sometimes Jesus is just illustrating a simple point -- in this case about how shrewd businesspeople are. He says the world’s businesspeople are much more shrewd about money than most Christians are. Maybe that’s his only point.

And yet, there is a way to hear God giving us a word about our role in the parable. What if the rich man in the parable is not God. What if the rich man is Caesar? The guy who owns the dishonest wealth.

“Dishonest” here is a misleading translation of the original Greek word that means “unrighteous”. Jesus isn’t telling us to be dishonest or to steal money. He is telling us how to use “the mammon of unrighteousness”. The dishonest wealth here is literal monetary wealth. Money. It is called unrighteous wealth, because it is the kind of thing the kingdom of this world cares about. Money is what unrighteous people are anxious to get and keep because it is considered wealth in their unrighteous kingdom.

Look at that dollar in your pocket or purse. Whose face is on it? Render to Washington what is Washington’s and to Christ what is Christ’s.

Money belongs to the ruler of this world. And here we are “squandering” it. We refuse to play Ceasar’s game. We refuse to buy the sweatshop sandals. We care more about worshiping God than about shopping. We complain when Caesar uses our tax money for war instead of healthcare. So we’re trouble-makers. Caesar’s got his eye on us.

And the spirit of Caesar lives not just in the heart of the George Bushes of this world, by the way. The spirit of Caesar lives in the heart of the Bill and Hilary Clintons, too. Both American parties serve money, and so neither can serve God.

It is the fault of no individual person. It’s just a law of nature. In Physics Isaac Newton taught us that “for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” And in politics, Jesus taught us that “Those who seek worldly power serve money, and those who serve money cannot serve God.” Two plus two equals four.

So if the rich man in the parable is Caesar and we are the managers entrusted to invest his property, you can see why he wouldn’t be happy. We don’t play by his rules. We don’t share his values. So, to him, what we do with his money – the money with his face on it – looks like squandering.

“What is this that I hear about you? Give me an accounting of your management, because you cannot be my manager any longer” (Luke 16:2). What do you mean you took Sunday off to go to church? What a waste of time! What do you mean you won’t buy sandals made in a sweatshop? You’ll undermine the economy! You’ve got to shop or the terrorists win. “You cannot be my manager any longer.”

What do we do in this situation? What do we do when the world hates us on account of our righteousness? We do what we always do. We worship Christ.

In today’s Epistle, Paul tells Timothy to pray for “kings and all who are in high positions” so that they may “be saved and come to the knowledge of the truth” (1 Timothy 2:1-2). Likewise we are told in today’s Psalm that even “the kings of the earth” will praise God when they have heard his words and seen his ways (Psalm 138:5-6).

“I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with my whole heart; before the gods I will sing your praise. … All the kings of the earth will praise you, O Lord, when they have heard the words of your mouth. They will sing the ways of the Lord, that great is the glory of the Lord” (Psalm 138:1, 5-6).

So what do we do? We pray for “kings and all who are in high positions”. We sing our God’s praise “before the gods” of this world. And we preach the Gospel of the Lord so that when the “kings of the earth” have “heard the words of” God, they, too, can praise him. In other words, we worship. The way we respond to Caesar’s threats is through our worship of Christ: re-presenting God’s story through prayer, praise, and preaching. That is how you put food on the Table. You worship the one whose flesh is food indeed.

Of course this worship must be “not only with our lips but in our lives”. And this is what we can learn from today’s Gospel. The parable of the unrighteous steward shows us how our worship of God can win over the heart of Caesar. This miracle happens when we worship God by means of unrighteous wealth.

When Caesar is finally fed up with us and decides to terminate our employment in his kingdom, he will look and see what we have been doing. We’ve been squandering his property, but how? By forgiving people’s debts to the rich man. By using the world’s tools against it. Money is the world’s primary tool. But God can redeem even unrighteous wealth.

As Jesus says, we are to use use our “unrighteous wealth” to “make friends” who will be able to “welcome” us “into the eternal homes” when our money “is gone” and we are economically bankrupt and physically dead (Luke 16:9).

His point is this. Money doesn’t last. If that makes your feel anxious, that’s because you’re still thinking like an American. Money doesn’t last. That’s supposed to be good news! “We are placed among things that are passing away.” But fear not! “Hold fast to those that shall endure.”

The kingdom of heaven has its own currency. Instead of money we have things like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). These are what are really worth something in heaven, the things that will endure.

“But if you have not been faithful with the unrighteous wealth, who will entrust to you the true riches?” We still face the question of how we can be faithful with our money. How can we be “faithful in very little” so that we may learn to be “faithful in much”? How can we be faithful with “what belongs to another” – what belongs to Caesar – so as to be given what is our own – the fruit of the Spirit?

What does God want us to do with our money? Jesus says we’re supposed to use our money to make friends – friends with the children of this age – thereby creating “true riches” that will endure unto the next age, the age of eternal homes.

Well, brothers and sisters, the next age has already begun. We have been bought by the Christ whom Paul says “died as a ransom for all”. The powers of this age were defeated at the Cross of Christ and now our God reigns and his kingdom will have no end. But if we want to be welcomed into eternal homes, we need to use our money accordingly. We need to forgive our debtors as God has forgiven our sins. We need to use our money to love one another.

Try this. Every time you spend money this week, ask yourself whether your transaction is one that serves God or Caesar. When you buy coffee, gasoline, groceries, clothes, whatever you buy this week, ask yourself where the raw materials came from. Were they grown or mined from the earth in a way harmful to the environment? Were the workers who made and sold the materials treated well? What happens to the waste from the products? Who benefits and who is harmed by your purchase? These are things we don’t often think about.

When Jesus contrasts “the children of this age” with “the children of light”, he is contrasting two whole nations, tribes, or families. (Luke 16:8). So the word “generation” does not mean age-group so much as it does people-group. The point is that people of the world know how to deal with their own kind of people better than we know how to deal with our own kind of people. They can use their money to win friends in their kingdom, but we don’t often use our money to win friends in our kingdom. We don’t often use our money to accomplish things that will endure.

And if it is in this place, gathered around that Table that we learn what things will endure, then it is here that we learn what to do with our money. This is why we have an offering each week. It’s not just a way to get money to run the church. It is an act of worship. Just as we bring our offerings of earthly bread and wine so that they can be broken and poured out and transformed into heavenly food and drink, so we bring our unrighteous wealth so that it can be turned into true riches.

And what do we find when our unrighteous wealth is turned into true riches? We find that “very little” has been turned into “much”. We find that what once “belonged to another” has been turned into “our own”. By giving them away, we can turn some worthless green pieces of paper and silver coins into joy and peace. By refusing to use our money to support injustice, we can turn dishonest wealth into kindness and gentleness. By giving up our earthly treasure for the work of God’s eternal kingdom we can invest in faithfulness and self-control. By making friends through unrighteous mammon, we can turn money into the love of God that endures forever. [i]

Even “the kings of the earth will praise” the Lord “when they have heard the words” of his mouth. How is your money speaking the words of God’s mouth?



[i] And what will happen when Caesar sees what we have done with his property? What will happen when the rulers of this world see that we have made friends by means of dishonest wealth? They will commend us for acting shrewdly. Because in their world, only money talks, this is the only way to make them hear the Word of the Lord. And so we are told to take the unrighteous wealth Caesar offers to let us manage and to use it to make friends. “This is right and is acceptable in the sight of God our Savior, who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.” What we do with our money doesn’t always make sense to the world. But even they can understand the value of friendship. When he takes account of our management, the rich man will see in some incomplete way what true wealth is about and will commend us for acting shrewdly. Caesar will allow us in this world to “lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and dignity”. For he will begin to understand the nature of true power. He will have a hunch that when the next age comes in all its fullness and the kingdom of heaven replaces the kingdom of the world once and for all, even Caesar will have to bow before the throne of Christ and that all the kings of the earth will praise our Lord when they have heard the words of his mouth.

Now they are shooting the monks

Update from this morning:

The Burmese protests are widening, the international response is building--and the Burmese generals are panicking. Today, the Burmese junta banned gatherings of more than 5, and sent thousands of troops to take control of the streets -- but still the monks and protesters march. Desperate officers have beaten, tear-gassed and fired on their own people, reportedly shooting five monks in Rangoon. The next 36 hours are crucial. Leaders have called for an emergency session of the UN Security Council-- but only a decisive initiative will prevent a massacre like the one from 1988. Already, 75,000 people from 192 countries have signed our emergency global petition.

If you are in the LA area, Thich Nhat Hanh is leading a peace walk on Saturday morning at Macarthur Park, 9:30 a.m. This seems all the more important and poignant now. I hope you can join me and do a walking meditation on peace.

Petition for Burma

I received this appeal from a friend on Facebook (incidentally, there's a facebook group about this issue). I have been reading about the movement of the religious over the last few days - it's quite an astonishing work they are doing (I would say) on God's behalf. May God hear their prayers and those of the world in this situation! Here's the appeal:

Burma is ruled by one of the most brutal military dictatorships in the world. For decades the Burmese regime has fought off pressure--imprisoning elected leader Aung San Suu Kyi and democracy activists, wiping out thousands of villages, imposing forced labour, creating refugees-But last Tuesday Buddhist monks and nuns, revered in Burma, began marching and chanting prayers. The protests spread as hundreds of thousands of ordinary people and public figures joined in, finding the hope they’d lost. Now they’re facing crackdown – so please, show your solidarity to this movement towards reconciliation and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people -- it'll be delivered to United Nations Security Council members and international media all week:
http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand_with_burma/tf.php?CLICK_TF_TRACK

In the past, Burma's military rulers have massacred the demonstrators and crushed democracy. The world must stand with the Burmese people at this time, to show the military rulers that the world will not tolerate repression and violence. Right now, global leaders are gathering in New York for the annual United Nations summit. In speeches, press interviews but also in real actions, we need them to show Burma's military junta that the global community is willing to act in solidarity with the protesters. Show your solidarity to this movement for peace and democracy and sign the emergency petition supporting the Burmese people. It'll be delivered to UN Security Council members and the UN press corps all week:
http://www.avaaz.org/en/stand_with_burma/tf.php?CLICK_TF_TRACK

Thank you for your help!

This is becoming a pattern with you, girl

Well, as anyone who has watched my life over the last four years knows, I have the ups and the downs in the ordination process. We have hit another wall, my friends. Yesterday I learned that I have been assigned a new clergy contact and my process is on hold. IF it continues, it won't be before January. I no longer have a committee nor the promise of one.

So that was kind of shocking, but then, I could also accept it. I mean, I didn't really believe it could work out so easily. I guess there is more to be done - on me, in my ministry - and that work will now happen. I didn't really get a straight answer about why, nor do I really expect to. I can only believe that in the end God has all this in Her hands, and we're just on this crazy journey together.

There's a longer story but rehashing it won't really do us much good. The fact is that my process has derailed again (for once not by my choice - yay! I'm learning not to sabotage myself!), and now we are back to plan A, the phd thing, and probably will be better for it. Plan B is on indefinite hold as far as I'm concerned. And I'm really OK with that. I am blessed to have a number of wise women as a support system and they are walking with me through this. And I sense that the process, if it happens, is really not to happen here. And that's OK. The phd thing is exciting - wish I could have dealt with it during my break, but c'est la vie.

Anyway, here is my favorite reaction quote from a friend:
"think about it this way, the devil is working overtime to keep you out of the ministry - i would consider that a compliment. : )"

Yes indeed. Up yours, Satan. You keep doing your best work. We know Who wins in the end.

My new life psalm

	73 Quam bonus Israel!
1	Truly, God is good to Israel, * to those who are pure in heart.
2	But as for me, my feet had nearly slipped; * I had almost tripped and fallen;
3	Because I envied the proud * and saw the prosperity of the wicked:
4	For they suffer no pain, * and their bodies are sleek and sound;
5	In the misfortunes of others they have no share; * they are not afflicted as others are;
6	Therefore they wear their pride like a necklace * and wrap their violence about them like a cloak.
7	Their iniquity comes from gross minds, * and their hearts overflow with wicked thoughts.
8	They scoff and speak maliciously; * out of their haughtiness they plan oppression.
9	They set their mouths against the heavens, * and their evil speech runs through the world.
10	And so the people turn to them * and find in them no fault.
11	They say, "How should God know? * is there knowledge in the Most High?

12	So then, these are the wicked; * always at ease, they increase their wealth.
13	In vain have I kept my heart clean, * and washed my hands in innocence.
14	I have been afflicted all day long, * and punished every morning.
15	Had I gone on speaking this way, * I should have betrayed the generation of your children.
16	When I tried to understand these things, * it was too hard for me;
17	Until I entered the sanctuary of God * and discerned the end of the wicked.
18	Surely, you set them in slippery places; * you cast them down in ruin.
19	Oh, how suddenly do they come to destruction, * come to an end, and perish from terror!
20	Like a dream when one awakens, O Lord, * when you arise you will make their image vanish.
21	When my mind became embittered, * I was sorely wounded in my heart.
22	I was stupid and had no understanding; * I was like a brute beast in your presence.
23	Yet I am always with you; * you hold me by my right hand.
24	You will guide me by your counsel, * and afterwards receive me with glory.
25	Whom have I in heaven but you? * and having you I desire nothing upon earth.

26	Though my flesh and my heart should waste away, * God is the strength of my heart and my portion for ever.
27	Truly, those who forsake you will perish; * you destroy all who are unfaithful.
28	But it is good for me to be near God; * I have made the Lord GOD my refuge.
29	I will speak of all your works * in the gates of the city of Zion.

A Sermon Unpreached

So I was supposed to preach this Sunday. I was really struggling with the lectionary gospel text. J found this very astute interpretation over at my bud Dylan’s website. So I’ll let you read her if you want to know more about the parable.

As far as me goes, I don’t know what I’m doing yet. I have talked with J about co-preaching, I’ve talked with my priest about trying that too, with him. We’ve had some really good talks lately, and some misunderstandings as well. It’s been one of those weeks when I felt like I was really riding a rollercoaster with the Church – going back and forth between grace and insecurity. Not only my own little church, but the whole shebang. It’s really hard to jump into this ministry thing when you start seeing what might lie ahead: confusion, misunderstandings, criticism. It’s impossible not to be on display as a priest or pastor. And it’s something I’m figuring out I will struggle with, because I’m quite thin-skinned. I don’t mind not being strong: my weakness just offers God the opportunity to shine through. But I wonder how it might affect others’ view of me.

At any rate, I had written the following sermon (which has been revised somewhat to take out personal information) a couple days ago, and at the advice of others have decided that now is not the time to preach it. I love much of what I say, though, and I want to preach it – not exactly as is, but bits of it – at some future occasion. A lot of what I say I’d like to tell Fuller. And a lot of it is a love letter to my church, though they may not have interpreted it that way right now. What I didn’t wish it to be was something that would focus on me instead of God, but I guess that’s where it strayed to. It’s not gospel-centric enough to work in my current context. But maybe someday I can put these ideas out there. And in the meantime, I offer it to you (the beginning is a bit rough because I chopped up my intro; just enjoy the liturgical stuff, that’s the main meat of it).

Liturgy with Crash Helmets

Our collect this morning reminded us “not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure.” What shall endure? What are the heavenly things we should love?

The things that endure are the things that are essential to our life as Christians, to us as a community. Without them, we do not function properly as God’s children, and we do not show evidence of the Holy Spirit in our midst.

Jesus tells us “Whoever is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much; and whoever is dishonest in a very little is dishonest also in much.” How we handle these essentials is the clue, for God, to how we will handle whatever “true riches” he may give us.

…

Two weeks ago you’ll remember that I left during the worship service, during the creed. You may also remember that on that Sunday, things had gotten experimental as we changed the order of the liturgy. After the processional we were led directly into the reading of the gospel, and then invited silence and listening to the text. I want to explain to you what happened for me that morning.

What had upset me was that we had skipped the part of the service in which we ask God to be there. We had skipped the invocation of the Holy Spirit, which we usually say in the first collect, the one that asks God to “Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love you and worthily magnify your name.” And we had skipped our blessing on the Lord: “Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.” And we had skipped our opening collective prayer, before which the priest says, “The Lord be with you,” and we all respond, “And also with you,” which is our way of telling him or her it’s okay to pray on our behalf. With those powerful words we are calling down God to be in our service, to come alive in our hearts, and to be on the lips of the one leading us into worship.

We didn’t do any of these things. And consequently, we didn’t publicly invite God to join us in our time together. If we are going to have private prayer time, we can do that at home or anywhere. There is no reason for us to gather on Sunday morning for personal quiet time with God. We gather together to do the things we can’t do alone: those essentials that are not possible except with one another. Things like publicly invoking God’s Spirit into our midst. Like hearing the Word of God proclaimed in our hearing. Like saying the psalm back and forth to one another. Like offering our petitions and intercessions, so that they become the burdens of all of us. Like celebrating one another’s birthdays and anniversaries. Like sharing the bread and wine that forms us into the body of Christ. Like singing together. Like passing the peace. We can even share a silence together that is qualitatively different from what we experience on our own.

The things we do together before the gospel reading and homily are the things that set the stage for us to be able to hear the Word: We gather. We ask God to be present with us. We pray for guidance. We set the gospel in the context of the Old Testament and epistle. We offer praise or lamentation with a psalm. All of these are setting the stage: they are preparing our ears and minds and hearts to hear from God. Without them, we hear from a human being. I know that I don’t want to be that person. None of us up here wants to speak on our own behalf. We only want to open our mouths and allow God’s words to come out.

The reason I was troubled was because we had not invited God to be with us that morning. We had not been brought into the time of worship with a public invocation and the words that bind us together. We did not do the liturgy: the liturgy which is the work of this people, the life-giving words and actions which have grown up over 75 years. The liturgy isn’t something that reflects any one person’s personal tastes. It has roots in this community. It has been born of decades of faithful listening and responding to the presence of God in the midst of this place.

When I came here, I joined the flowing stream that is the Spirit’s movement at this church. I ride along on the current of what you all have created together. And when we did not have that, I felt lost. I felt as if the liturgy – which comes from a Greek word, leitourgia, which originally meant “work of the people” – I felt as if your work had been lost. What God has done in our midst over seven decades is reflected when we pray our way. We are a people with history. And it’s not just this parish’s rich history – it’s a history that goes back 2000 years – no, actually, back to the beginning of time, when God first conversed with human beings. Some of our liturgical prayers and blessings are from the Roman era, some of our practices come to us from Judaism. We have a lot of history.

And when we wait for the truth – when we sit through these other parts of the service – we acknowledge our place in history. We recognize that others came before us. We listen to them in the words of the prayers and the scriptures. When we do not, we lose their community – we lose the community of saints, the great cloud of witnesses around us who cheer us on as we journey through this life. Without acknowledging our history, we are in danger of elevating one person’s preference above the whole great communion of Christ’s Church, worldwide and across time. I left, because I was hurting for our lost work and our lost community.

We need context in the Service of the Word, and to remember always to offer the prayers and readings which have become the lifeblood of this community’s worship. They are the context in which this community prepares itself to hear the Word proclaimed, to be confronted with the truth of the gospel. That morning had a difficult gospel; so is this morning’s. But the steps we take together, on our journey to the gospel reading and the homily, prepare us for what we will hear, prepare us to hear and wrestle with the text together.

One writer says, “Christians believe that truth always needs an introduction.” The gospel needs to be couched in prayer, praise, blessing, thanksgiving, song, history, and mystery. The Truth of God can be a hard pill to swallow; and the harder it is, the more important the preparation becomes. We put the words from the preacher, and the words from Jesus, into the context of worship, of praise, of God’s faithfulness, by inviting the Spirit, blessing God, praying together, and listening to the scriptures.

These things matter. They are what we have created together, with God, to prepare us to meet God week after week. What any one of us wants or prefers – that’s not essential. That’s not what matters. What matters is that which brings us closer to our heavenly Father.

The time of preparation is not peripheral. These elements are not window dressing. They are not things we do to pass the time, or because we’ve always done them. They are taking us, step by step, closer to being prepared for a face-to-face encounter with Jesus. They open our ears and our minds and our hearts to Him. We cannot jump straight into encounter with God – that would be like diving into a very cold pool. And we can’t demand instant access to God – God will only come when invited, when asked. It’s a dance, really: an intimate series of moments in which we draw ourselves close to the Lord of the Universe. Who also happens to be our Abba.

And really, we need all this preparation for our own safety. The writer Annie Dillard says if people really expected to meet God on Sunday, we’d all be wearing crash helmets in church. Like I said last time I preached, God isn’t safe. But God is very good. And we come to God through a series of signs, words, and gestures that remind us who we are, who God is, and how that incredible, mysterious connection happens between us. And then it does.

And in a very intimate way, God reaches out to us and offers himself for our taking. We hear the gospel, in the scriptures and homily. And we enact the gospel, as we pray, forgive, reconcile, and pass the peace. But we see the gospel, and we touch it, and we even taste it, when we come to this altar and eat and drink. When we join the heavenly banquet, which is God’s love made visible. Made accessible. Made free and bountiful. When you are handed the elements of communion, you hold God’s love – God’s deep, abiding, undying, unfathomable, unbreakable love – in the palm of your hand.

And then you put it in your mouth, and you swallow it, and that love quite literally becomes part of you. God communes with you, physically, spiritually.

Jesus is God’s Word become Flesh. Jesus’ Flesh is Food indeed.

The Eucharist meal is God’s Word to our bodies, just as the Scripture and homily are God’s word to our minds. Our fellowship is God’s word to our hearts, and our praise and petitions are God’s word to our spirits.

All around us is the Word of God, the utterance of the Holy One that makes all things new. We cannot escape it, here in this place.

We should all be wearing crash helmets.