Faces of God: God the Unexpected

Today in the Church of England's lectionary (it was also read in The Episcopal Church), we read two important lessons that I think reveal the face of God the unexpected.  The Old Testament lesson was from I Samuel 17:32-49 and the Gospel was Mark 4:35-41.  In both cases I was struck by the imagery of being caught unprepared and called out by God. I heard the story of David and Goliath the Philistine in a new, unexpected way this morning.  If one of Israel could kill Goliath, then the battle should end.  David, being chosen, is clothed by Saul with armour, "mail" was the translation we read today.  Something about the clothing remains powerful to me--it wasn't David at all.  He couldn't walk in the heavy suit, it was silly. How often do we put on images for ourselves only to be taken as ridiculous?  We try on things that our not suited for us in an effort to protect ourselves.  All the while, God calls on us to come out as we are and into the unknown with faith.  It seems no coincidence, here, that David cannot wear the protective armour, but must go out in front seemingly vulnerable and possibly on a suicidal mission.

Armed with his stones, the only weapons he knows, David relies on God's faithfulness and ultimately slays the giant with a single stone.  I've heard this story many times before but I never considered the idea of being called out by God to perform this task by ordinary means by ordinary people.  The image of one shepherd going out in front of the army lines, leaving behind the protection of the masses, David goes alone with God to meet the giant for what seems to be an impossible task.  Fear, yes, fear would be coursing through me at that point.    

Saul clothed David with his amour; he put a bronze helmet on his head and clothed him with a coat of mail. David strapped Saul’s sword over the armour, and he tried in vain to walk, for he was not used to them. Then David said to Saul, ‘I cannot walk with these; for I am not used to them.’ So David removed them. Then he took his staff in his hand, and chose five smooth stones from the wadi, and put them in his shepherd’s bag, in the pouch; his sling was in his hand, and he drew near to the Philistine."

I Samuel 17: 38-40

The Gospel lesson from Mark follows this same parallel.  Jesus is asleep in the boat with his disciples when a raging storm happens and causes great consternation among the sailors.  Our Lord simply asks them whether or not they have faith in God's providence.  Fear of death was all that they could think of in their future.  Jesus calms the waters and instantly their faith is restored.

Why is all this important?  God comes to us in the unexpected ways of storms and giants, calling us out of our spheres of comfort, out of our false clothing, to confront those fearful things that keep us from the love of God.  Testing?  No, I don't believe that God puts tests in front of us to see what we're made of, but rather God calls us to be authentic and stand for what and who we were created to be.  God the unexpected is the one who wants us to live fulfilling, happy lives, lovingly being who we are.  We stray from this out of fear, fear of acceptance, fear of the unknown, or worse to gain false comfort from money, job security, or anything else our culture deems important and necessary.  We do this for our will, not God's.  Thus, the storms and giants rise up as a way to strip away those things that are fleeting, like chaff in the wind. God's will and God's faithfulness is the foundation of our being, straying from that means trouble looms on our horizon.

God may act in unsuspecting ways, but I believe that all things come to some certainty in God's providence.  God the unexpected is trying to fulfill our expectant hope of eternal life in the Kingdom of Christ.  So mind those giants in your life.  Stand up and fight.  The storms will cause titanic waves to flood your sense of security, so stave them off with the faith from above. Be at ease knowing that you strive in your everyday life to live deeply into God's will.

Faces of God: God the Friend

If God was on Facebook, would you send him a friend request?  Since I don't have any "naughty" photos of anything at all, I would not hesitate to friend him!  As of this writing, there are currently 524,033 fans of Jesus Christ on Facebook, I wonder why there aren't more? Would God be the old-fashioned sort who would shy away from all things social-networking? Or would God be an i-Phone toting hipster? Perhaps both.

God seeks out relationship in any form possible.  God the friend is the sort who is comfortable in both groups and individually.  What would God's Myers-Brigg personality be, I wonder? Either way, I sense that God's idea of friendship is lasting.  As Christians, we believe that through the waters of baptism we are re-born into a new life in Jesus Christ.  We are bound to him as he is to us. The Body of Christ, the Church militant on earth, is where we strengthen those bonds as we move through the process of life.  That friendship is a bond that sustains heartaches, peer-pressure, and all the anxieties of social life in community.  

God is the chief friend, the "best" if you will.  The model is forged throughout the whole of Scripture.  As it is, God acts first and always first and relieves us of any anxiety of acceptance. God's will is to bind us into the common humanity in the life of the Kingdom.  There is no pressure from God to buy certain labels or behave differently in or around certain people. God's will is to be the friend who frees us up to be who God wants us to be--who we were created to be.    

I doubt there's any double-crossing, gossiping, or even the ultimate betrayal with God as friend. If anything, we're quick to claim that God has disappeared or somehow abandoned us--Our Lord's cry of dereliction from the cross, for example.  The reality is, and proved only by one's own journey of faith, that God is present in the darkness too.  It is easy to see and feel the presence of God in the good things of life, blessings are always nicer than pain.  Yet my own experience has shown that the pain of life we sometimes experience leaves wounds that are transformed into blessings.  Henri Nouwen's "wounded healer" concept nails this down succinctly. God is in the darkness and sometimes so close to us that we believe we've been left for dead.  Friendship, relationship, and covenant are bonds that bind and last forever.  God as the instrument in forging such bonds reveals the powerful love that links us to our creator.

I need God as my friend and confidant.  I need to know that someone cares for me while catching me every time I fall down.  God never seems to grow weary of me and all my peculiarities, much less my poor decisions and sin.  God never gives up on me while I have given up on God at certain times in my life.  It is when I discovered God quietly in the darkness that I learned God's deep well of mercy and grace.  How often have we heard that when really bad things happen you discover who your true friends really are?  Enough said.

Faces of God: God the Enemy

We need God to be the enemy.  Why?  It's the age old question of theodicy:  God and justice. Why does God allow bad things to happen?  Job knows plenty of this.  God the enemy, God in the clouds playing puppeteer with creation.  Popular thought often portrays the Old Testament God as the God of anger, wrath, and destruction.  And somehow, with the flip of the page, the New Testament God is all-loving and now wants to enter into the course of human history. 

The reality is that we want to have a reason when something happens.  In Islam, the Arabic expression is insha' allah, or "if God wills."  Unfortunately, this idea gets applied equally to the tragic death of a child, news of cancer, and the unknowing depths of endless human suffering. Does God really will death and destruction for creation?  I believe the answer is an emphatic "no."  Following the days of creation in Genesis, God blesses the work by calling it good (Gen 1:31). The pain and suffering in the world is the result of sin--turning away from God's will and looking to our own for comfort and happiness.  Cancer is not from God, nor is HIV/AIDS, or even genocide for that matter.  From my experience of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) and working with death and dying in a hospital, I can speak from the depths of my faith that God is present somehow in the suffering and tears of humanity.  God's presence, whilst at times seems far away, is so close that we fail to recognize the comforting love of a friend.  God does not will destruction for creation, the rainbow set in the sky affirms God's promise to Noah that never again will God destroy the earth (Gen 9:8-16).

The only comfort that I can find in the problem of theodicy is simply that we find God's tears falling with our own.  We need to make God the enemy to rationalize why or how something so terrible could occur in our lives.  Again, see the Book of Job.  But even in Job's ordeal, he maintains faith.  Perhaps that's why this bit of the Old Testament gets a lot of attention because we cannot comprehend how and need to hear it over and over again.

There is no question that even in my own journey of faith I have blamed God for this or that offense, discovering only in the end that I am my own worst enemy.  I have also discovered that the more helpful route is to simply investigate where God is present in all my calamities.  That is the true question that we should be asking and the one that most likely contains the raw, painful answers that we cannot bear to face. God was not absent at Auschwitz; God was there amid the Hutu and Tutsi genocide.  God was there when I baptized 16-week old Jesus (Spanish) following his death.  God suffers with us because the suffering is not willed.  Yet, we do know that suffering and pain can serve as the furnace of transformation for our faith and life, but we cannot romanticize the tragedy.  

Living with the problem of theodicy is hard, faith-testing matter.  There is no one answer that completely satisfies the human heart, nor fills the cavernous voids of painful loss.  The only example we have is that of Our Lord on the cross, crying out in dereliction.  In the end, we do believe that God's justice is wrapped up in the Kingdom.  The Kingdom is where we live for God's will and not ours, where justice flows down like waterfalls, and everyone has just enough to eat.      

Faces of God: God the Lover

"God became man so that man might be engodded" 

~ St. Athanasius

The Oxford Movement of the nineteenth century did a lot for the Church of England.  In it, the reformers were harkening back to the age of the patristic Greek Fathers, that age of the Church when there was nothing "popish" within the institution.  One idea, however, that never seemed to gain much ground in Anglicanism despite the claims of the movement, was that of divinization or properly called theosis.  Known quite well in the Eastern Church, the concept of humanity's process towards becoming divine is deeply rooted in the Incarnation--some may easy say that this is the completion of that moment when the Divine and Humanity intersected in the womb of the Virgin.

What does this have to do with love?  Moreover, what does this have to do with seeing the face of God as a lover?  God creates out of love; humanity being formed in God's likeness and image is a powerful measure of God's love.  Eros, not agape, is the burning desire of God and humanity.  Eros is the Greek principle of a deep, erotic love which surpasses the mere physical limitations of human flesh.  Descending into the womb while exulting our human nature is the fullness of that love.  Episcopal priest Phillips Brooks, the legendary composer of the Christmas hymn "O Little Town of Bethlehem," is noted as saying that in this act of Incarnation we find, "the condescension of divinity and the exultation of humanity."  Ascent meets the descent and in that we know more about our God as the ultimate lover.  Interestingly enough, this may be the most erotic imagery in the whole of the Christian tradition.

So now let us move forward one more step.  God as lover woos us.  God woos us in the very wilderness we often find ourselves.  God creates, God provides, and God woos.  Even when Adam and Eve were kicked out of Paradise, God makes and provides clothing for them (Gen 3:23).  God is the constant lover of creation, bringing and calling it into the fullness of that lover.  We are no exception to this but often stand in the way of feeling God's tenderness or being tantalized by God's scent.  Thus, to accept theosis, one has to be willing to see inside the love that was born from above and to accept God's invitation to step onto the dance floor to take a spin with the Almighty.  I doubt that the principle here is to create millions of little gods and goddesses running around the Kingdom, but rather bring humanity to its fullness, to its completion which can only be found in God.  God took the first step in creation; the invitation has been issued and a reply is requested.

As is the case with any lover, there are the warts that we try to cover over and hide.  We don't want to be naked in front of the one that we try to seduce or vice versa.  The seduction of God is to be perfect bliss and causes the ultimate "release."  This release is complete and total freedom of the Kingdom of God which dawned in the coming of Christ, but alas is not yet fulfilled.  As we move closer with God in the dance of our lives, we take down those barriers and uncover the painful areas of lives.  Trust is the result of knowing that there is another hand out there supporting and guiding your spins.  The music is endless and so is the dance.  But there is always that fear of tripping over your feet or looking rather foolish with stiff legs.  

Will you fight?  Will you always accept God's advances?  Can you resist the heavenly aroma? We will certainly try!  We are human after all.  Theosis gives me hope that I'm always in process, always moving to a beat that my soul rhythmically gets even when I try and stand in the way. 

Personally, I can identify this image in my life.  The times when I have left the dance floor because of anger or simply lacking the courage to accept my own acceptance.  Each time I come back, I find that God is ready to pick up the beat again.  Ironically, there never seems to be the cursory, "I told you so."      

2009 National Day of Pilgrimage: The Shrine

Outside of the Shrine Church.

The main altar inside.

Another shot of the main altar.

A bishop's tomb.  I'm guessing not a low-churchman either.

As soon as you open the main doors, this altar greets you.

The Holy House inside the Shrine Church.  This is the actual shrine to OLW.

One of many beautiful side chapels inside the Shrine Church.

In all, I would have to say that I was most impressed with the Shrine Church and the surrounding grounds.  Everything was up-to-date and well maintained.  You certainly could tell that many faithful patrons support the Shrine and devotion to OLW.  

My recommendation would be to go without all the pomp and ceremony of the National Pilgrimage.  It was crazy, but you certainly got to see a lot of high church spikery at its finest.

2009 National Day of Pilgrimage: The Mass

The mass took place on the ancient grounds of the priory at Walsingham.  These grounds, so I am told, are only opened up for this grand occasion.

Everything was done with proper care to churchmanship, sometimes a tad over the top in places.  The weather was exceedingly agreeable and we had a nice spot over on the lawn and there we sat with our children.

My only complaint was that when I took my daughter up to receive Communion at one of the many stations, she put her hand out only to be denied the Body of Our Lord by the priest!  Instead, she received a blessing and then she promptly started crying loudly, "my bread!  I want my bread!"  I encouraged to cry even louder as I was terribly distraught over the out-dated eucharistic theology of this priest.

2009 National Day of Pilgrimage: The Processions

Yesterday, we made the journey down from Mirfield to England's Nazareth, Walsingham. We chartered a private bus along with seminarians from the College of the Resurrection and few monks from the Community of the Resurrection.  

Walsingham is an adorable, quaint English village complete with pubs, bookshops, and plenty of images of Our Lady.  The Shrine and surrounding grounds have recently undergone reconstruction and everything looked brilliant.

The day begins with a procession of the clergy and the actual shrine of OLW from the Shrine Church to the ancient Walsingham priory ruins where the principal mass is to be celebrated.  Along the route stands the protesters, and I'll let their placards speak for themselves.  There, the protesters yelled at us claiming that we worship Mary and that we are idolaters.  They handed out pamphlets trying to save our souls, etc.  I'm reminded what my Systematic Theology Professor says, "if your theology of Mary is off, then you've sure to get your Christology wrong too." 

The Faces of God: God the Sibling

My brother and I are only separated by a year-and-a-half.  My mother loves to remind me that it was my brother who often served as my spokesman when we were little, he somehow could read my mind.  It was my brother who coaxed me into doing things, well, let's say that would provoke my parents just a little.  But, it was my brother whose solo heroism pulled me up out of the hot tub and saved my life as I was drowning.

While in our teenage years we began to grow apart as our interests no longer seemed to collide. I was interested in becoming a Boy Scout and immersing myself into that life.  My brother, perhaps more typically hormonal, was interested in girls and cars.  I learned how to play by myself and I explored a new world of imagination and creativity, but I knew I was alone more and more.  Somehow that seemingly lonely world was busy with games and escapades that kept me very active.  My brother used to pick on me about my weight as kid--he was literally thin as a stick and I was not.

The college years changed everything.  To everyone's surprise (mine too), I chose to attend the same college as my brother.  My last two years of high school were blissful, I had the house and my parents all to myself, and now I wanted to change everything.  My brother was in his junior year as I began as a freshman.  He was of legal drinking age and I was not--you see where this is going.  We quickly rekindled our bonds of affection and I also became very good friends with his friends!  I ended up having more upperclassmen friends than those in my own class, a mistake that would later hurt.  College was fun and it was fun because I had the opportunity to share two years of it with my brother.  The campus world dramatically changed following his graduation, I truly missed him.

Now in our young adult years, my brother and I continue to grow in our relationship.  He tends to be a better communicator than I am, he constantly calls me and my parents.  My brother is the one that comes up with the creative gift ideas for Mother's/Father's day.  Though now, the weight has been reversed and I am guilty of a few jabs to exact my revenge (and I say it all in the most Christian way possible!).  My brother is the one who never lets me go off into my own world of depression and self-pity; it is my brother who has saved my life on more than one occasion.

God as my brother?  Related by blood?  Would God call me fat?  Would God purchase beer for me as a college freshman?  Would God annoyingly call and check in with me whenever I was at a low point in my life?  

The thought that keeps emerging is the parallel between my brother's relationship and my relationship with God.  God does serve as our ultimate spokesman and God gives us the sort of curiosity that would lead a 13 year old to play with firecrackers.  I feel extremely fortunate to have the present relationship with my brother.  Though it's not often perfect, but I find that my brother is often much more forgiving than I am and he seems willing to hang in there no matter what.  My brother is without exception an old-school romantic, searching the horizon for the perfect sunset.  I envy that in him as well as his genuine goodness.

So the parallel:  my brother and I were close, grew apart, and then grew close again and continue to develop a mature brotherly relationship.  With God lies the same pattern.  Does God will the separation?  No.  Does God give us the tools we need to survive alone and help us find our way back?  Yes.  

I struggle a little with this imagery of God as Sibling, not because I don't have a saint-like brother, but because I know I have to expand the many faces that God lives.  I can and do see the image, though it's not one that seems to wrench my heart like the others.  What do you think?

    

The Faces of God: God the Child

Being a parent of two, very active toddlers has been both a tremendous joy as well as a tremendous challenge.  My oldest, Caroline, is full of life and personality.  Ordinarily, she knows right from wrong, and even boasts a smile just before she embarks on something destined to cause her Daddy some trouble!  My youngest, Tucker, is starting to talk and generally points and grunts to things that he wants.  I have now only begun to master the art of this communication after two years of stumbling.  

There are, of course, many tender moments with them:  seeing my son curled up in his Mommy's arms; Caroline sitting on my shoulders while she sings a song with words that only God knows; and my personal favorite, watching them both run up to greet me when I come home after a long day at the seminary.  Affection is everywhere in our house, but looming in the hallway is the dreaded "time out" corner.  Love is the fullness of being able to caress with one hand and firmly correct with the other; when this balance is not realized children will develop various sorts of behavior or personality problems.  Achieving this balance has been hard for me as a parent, especially now that I have a more developed relationship with my daughter as she grows.  I know it's her smile that melts my parental anger into a deep well of compassion when she does something wrong.

Can I image the face of God to be in my toddlers?  Without a doubt, yes!  From changing diapers to bath time, each moment is deeply rooted in the love between a parent and a child.  Children, much like I imagine God to be, have no sense of our boundaries, no sense of the baggage and limitations that we take on in our lives.  Whenever I hold my son up, he likes to rip off my eyeglasses and smack me on the face.  I can imagine God doing this too, saying to me, "Chad, here I am!  Look at me and pay attention!"  God as the child reminds me to see what I hold in the center of my life and focus on the real needs at hand.

God, just like my children, has no boundaries to maintain.  God is everywhere, sometimes smacking me on the face to get my attention whenever I stray.  The image of God the child does not offend me in the least as I feel the connectedness of relationship--God needing us just as we need God.  I would have never imagined that I would need a child in my life, but as I have experienced the awesome power of human birth I know that I need my children just as they need me.  Those needs--both mine and theirs--are organic and take many shapes and colors, and I am keenly aware of how my behavior and attitude towards my children will affect their development and future lives.  So too, my relationship with God, as it grows and matures, will reveal insights into the heart of God as well as my own.    

The Kingdom Prism: A May Day Poem

The Kingdom Prism:  A May Day Poem

by Chad M. Krouse

Red, the color of love, the color of blood, the color of revolution.  

The blood of the martyrs, shed for Him.

The blood of our Lord, shed for us.

Red, the longest wavelength discernible to the human eye.

Who are these?  These are those who passed through the great ordeal

and have been washed white in the blood of the Lamb.

Red refracted through the Kingdom prism begets pure white.

You, God, have made of one blood all the peoples of the earth.

"This is my blood which is shed for you, so that every sin may be forgiven."  Red on earth makes white in heaven; 

so fight for the poor,

the widow,

the hungry,

the naked,

and the marginalized.

Truly, let justice roll down like a torrent of red transformed into heavenly white, for God's Divine Commonwealth is among us. 

-------------

This poem has been published on the Anglo-Catholic Socialism website.  Click on this link to view the poem there.

Sweet Book Plate

I came across this book plate in a copy of William Temple's Christus Veritas. The owner has impeccable taste!  Click on the photo to enlarge it.  

Brother Sun Sister Moon

I recently watched Franco Zeffirelli's movie on the life of Saint Francis, "Brother Sun, Sister Moon." I purchased it on iTunes; it was worth it! Here is the conversion scene. Check the movie out, I highly recommend it!

A Published Poet

I received word today from the editors at Anglican Digest that a poem of mine is to be published in their next edition.  Funny thing, I submitted it over a year ago and completely forgot about it!  I wrote this in February 2008 as I was preparing a sermon on the Feast of the Transfiguration.  I liked the idea of us--we, the Body of Christ--being bread to the world.  Admittedly, though, it is not my favorite poem or even my best work.  It's always interesting to see what others think of your work.  Nonetheless, after several various submissions, I can now claim to be a published poet!  

These Transfigured Loaves

by Chad M. Krouse

O Jesus,

your body for us:

taken, blessed, broken, and given. 

We, O Lord, are yours.

Come, O Come we sing:

The light that transfigures us

turns us into bread for your world. 

It returns to you not empty, but 

fills hungry mouths with insatiable

strength.

We too, O Lord, are loaves taken, blessed,

broken, and given to the world. 

We lay our sacrifice upon your altar

and all creation rejoices with you.

For we are bread.       

The Faces of God: God as Mother

I want to begin this reflection as "God as Mother" by borrowing from Henri Nouwen's famous book, Return of the Prodigal Son.  

"Often I have asked friends to give me their first impression of Rembrandt's Prodigal Son. Inevitably, they point to the wise old man who forgives his son: the benevolent patriarch.

"The longer I look at 'the patriarch', the clearer it becomes to me that Rembrandt has done something quite different from letting God pose as the wise old head of a family. It all began with the hands. The two are quite different. The father's left hand touching the son's shoulder is strong and muscular. The fingers are spread out and cover a large part of the prodigal son's shoulder and back. I can see a certain pressure, especially in the thumb. That hand seems not only to touch, but, with its strength, also to hold. Even though there is a gentleness in the way the father's left hand touches his son, it is not without a firm grip.

"How different is the father's right hand! This hand does not hold or grasp. It is refined, soft, and very tender. The fingers are close to each other and they have an elegant quality. It lies gently upon the son's shoulder. It wants to caress, to stroke, and to offer consolation and comfort. It is a mother's hand....

"As soon as I recognized the difference between the two hands of the father, a new world of meaning opened up for me. The Father is not simply a great patriarch. He is mother as well as father. He touches the son with a masculine hand and a feminine hand. He holds, and she caresses. He confirms and she consoles. He is , indeed, God, in whom both manhood and womanhood, fatherhood and motherhood, are fully present. That gentle and caressing right hand echoes for me the words of the prophet Isaiah: "Can a woman forget her baby at the breast, feel no pity for the child she has borne? Even if these were to forget, I shall not forget you. Look, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands."

Clearly, Nouwen reminds us that we need both masculine and feminine imagery when we speak about God.  I was challenged right at the beginning of my seminary formation to begin using "inclusive language" for God-talk.  At first, I really did not like using words like "Godself" in writing papers for class.  I was able, though, to move past this.  I remember having a conversation over inclusive language with my parents during the first Christmas break--my father refused to give in!

Why are we afraid to see God as feminine?  Do we lose something by the reference?  Quite the opposite, I believe.  "Expansive language" is more cutting edge these days, expanding the adjectives and metaphors for describing God.  We lose far more when we limit God and Godself to being simply male.  "There is no longer Jew or Greek," writes Saint Paul, "there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 3:28).  Put into the positive, there is both Jew and Greek, there is both slave and free, and there is both male and female in Christ. Paul understands that the distinctions are exploded in the risen Christ.  And yet, we are still afraid to loosen our masculine grip on God. 

Having had both parents in my life as a child, I saw clear distinctions between the roles of mother and father.  My father was the busy bank executive who did what he could to spend time with me and my brother--coming to the baseball games, Scout camp-outs, and the annual father-son fishing extravaganza.  Dad was everything that you would expect in a fatherly role. Mother, too, filled the womanly role. She was the one who cooked, cleaned, and also worked full-time outside of the home.  When you put the two parenting roles together, everything was covered.  Separated, my mother was the one who, more often than not, spent time listening to me and encouraging my creative side.  I was always close to my mother, and now in my adulthood, I am growing closer to both parents.  My mother never used guilt to force my hand in a decision. On the contrary, she excessively worried for me over the decision!  And still does, bless her heart. 

Growing up, I felt as though both mother and father helped expand my view of the world by offering unconditional love and support. When I fell, and I did quite often, they helped me get back up and examine where things went wrong.  They never protected me from the world, but rather let me see and feel my own way in it.  They were always a few steps behind me, just in case. 

God as Father fits the mold of my childhood; my theology was shaped by the roles my parents filled.  God as the bread-winner and busy executive. God as the person that needs a drink at five o'clock following a hard day of meetings, and so forth.  It was harder to accept God as the cook, God as the laundry lady, and God as the healer of all the scratches and cuts.  But it works, doesn't it?  It makes sense that God fills both parenting roles.  God certainly can fulfill both roles.  

Our Father and Mother, who art in heaven. . .

The Faces of God: God as Father

"God is not an object," screams my Theology and Ethics Professor during our first day in Seminary.  "Huh," I thought, "what a way to begin three years of spiritual formation!"  I realized his point in time--and he effectively made his point, over, and over, and over again--is that we tend to turn God into an object, a convenient and handy object.  There's a human tendency to do this and it can be spiritually dangerous.

The image of God as the grand old man in the sky works as a child, it is less helpful to me as an adult.  Yes, I grew up with that image, a God who lives high up in the heavens surveying creation and keeping count on our sins and offenses.  This idea is even less helpful as a sinning adult!  The problem with the grand old man image is that some faithful refuse to let go of it--God is father and that's that.  Pastorally speaking, this is also less helpful.  If we maintain that image or face of God, we lose sight of the creative God who created humankind in "our image" (NRSV translation).  God created us to be in relationship with us, not to leave us to our devices and demise.  We need God just as God needs us--a dynamic ongoing salvation history from God establishing the covenant with Abraham all the way to the Word made flesh in the Incarnation.  This relationship is repeatedly given credit throughout scripture.  

The God on high who sits in judgement does not help a young rape victim who is faced with the difficult decision over abortion, or the elderly man who keeps begging God to let him die.  We seek, above anything else, a God of Compassion.  "I AM the I AM," to me means that God is the God who remembers, the God who saves, the God who listens, the God who can change God's mind.  I think of God saying, "I AM the compassionate one."  Some remote God does not intervene in the course of human history.  A remote God does not enter into covenants with humanity, much less seek to fulfill them. Ours is a God of relationship.

I think it is extremely important to see that our ideas of God, and the many faces of God, change as our understanding--based on experience--changes.  The grand old man works for a small child, but as that child grows, so too does the image.  If God has been limited to an object, then the object remains static and unable to grow into a deep relationship with creation.  

In Book One of Saint Augustine's Confessions (Oxford, Penguin Ed.), Augustine writes, "how shall I call upon my God, my God and Lord?  Surely when I call on him, I am calling on him to come to me.  But what place is there in me where my God can enter into. . . Lord my God, is there any room in me which can contain you?  Can heaven and earth, which you have made in which you have made me, 

contain you?"

"We need God just as God needs us."

Augustine goes on to ask, "who then are you, my God. . . most high, utterly good. . . deeply hidden yet most intimately present, perfection of both beauty and strength, stable and incomprehensible, immutable and yet changing all things, never new, never old. . .In your mercies, Lord God, tell me what you are to me. 'Say to my soul, I am your salvation (Ps. 34:3). Speak to me so that I may hear.  See the ears of my hearts are before you, Lord.  Open them and 'say to my soul, I am your salvation.'  After that utterance I will run and lay hold on you. Do not hide your face from me.  Lest I die, let me die so that I may see it."

Even after the centuries when Augustine wrote this, we still wrestle with the many faces of God.  Wrestling is part of the journey of faith.  Take to heart one Augustine's most famous quotation from Confessions, "our heart is restless until it rests in you" (Oxford Penguin Ed.).We should wrestle with seeing God as a black woman, a Chinese teenager, or an Inuit man. Otherwise, I think we reduce God in size--we reduce the believer's capacity for the need of a certain face of God that speaks to them.  God is not an object!  And please, this is not reducing God to relativism either!  I think this idea is deeply embedded in the tradition of Byzantine iconography, where one is not allowed to write or paint a human image of God.  

It has taken me many years to grow in my relationship with God and how I see God.  I've stopped referring to God as just "Father" or any masculine reference for that matter.  God indeed has many faces, many voices (spoken and silent), and above all, God longs for us as we long to be in relationship with God.  We also need feminine imagery for God--God is also "Mother," but more on that subject later.

  

Rooting Social Justice in Silence

Social Justice in Silence?  Cognitive dissonance?  Answer: No.  

If we take away the life of prayer, and here I am referring to contemplative prayer, you risk turning a Gospel-witnessing of social justice into simply becoming self-righteous anger which can lead to rage.  Episcopal Priest and author Malcolm Boyd--himself a Freedom Rider in the Civil Rights era and now a voice for Gay Rights--speaks of the unholiness of rage and anger.  In his article, "Rage is Not Holy," Malcolm writes:

"Rage is too much with us. Some people speak of “holy anger.” Rage is not holy. In all the years that I encountered Martin Luther King in myriad public situations, he was never enraged. He was demonstrative. He was impassioned. He was committed to nonviolence. Once I heard him describe nonviolence as the way one should pick up a telephone receiver to respond to a call—a simple act of wholeness and integrity instead of a big public relations gesture or a political act for the 10 o’clock news.

"This is why Christians engaged in the work of social justice need to cultivate an inner spiritual life centered in prayer and quiet reflection. This is indispensable for a public life of debate, action and complex relationships. When I became a Freedom Rider in 1961 and, following the example of Martin Luther King, opposed the Vietnam War—which included participation in a Peace Mass inside the Pentagon—I sometimes neglected my inner spiritual life because of the pressure of immediate demands. At such times I veered toward self-righteousness and became shrill and angry.

"I see clearly what went amiss. I denied the central place of prayerful reflection in my life. In recent years I have undertaken the task of being spiritual director for around a dozen women and men, mostly clergy, ranging in age from late twenties to early seventies. I feel that anyone involved in the work of social justice needs to be actively engaged in the discipline of centering prayer. It enables a needed perspective, integrates the inner life with the outward life, and allows humility to serve as a companion in one’s public, bigger-than-life controversies." Click here to view the entire article.

"I sometimes neglected my inner spiritual life because of the pressure of immediate demands. At such times I veered toward self-righteousness and became shrill and angry."

I find myself seeing how my passion for certain social issues can quickly turn into anger.  When your angry, your thoughts are not clear, and your well-intentioned words are received bitterly sometimes by a discerning ear.  Silent contemplative prayer is the ground of one's being--simply resting for nourishment in the presence of God.  The fruit of silent prayer is harvested in the daily give-and-take of life.  Clear thoughts, clear words, and Gospel values are just a few of those God-given fruits.  

As I contemplate and discern my future ministry, committing myself to helping others embrace the Kingdom of Christ, I know that everything must have this sacred "groundedness," otherwise I'll simply flounder along with mediocre sermons, pastoral care that ignores my own woundedness, and generally serving as a part-time Christian.  The fullness and richness of silent contemplative prayer is not always apparent in the early stages.  If you consider the early three-fold stages of 1) Purgation, 2) Illumination, and 3) Union with God, then you must prepare yourself to run a marathon and not simply a short sprint.   

This Fragile Earth: A Christian Celebration of Earth Day 2009 at The School of Theology, Sewanee

Yesterday, the Seminary Sustainability Committee led its first Earth Day service in front of the Seminary's Chapel of the Apostles (pictured above).  We had twenty in attendance and we were pleased with the efforts to get the word out.  Most importantly, our Liturgics Professor showed up and we felt like we got the ultimate compliment on our service!

Here's one of the opening prayers from our service.

O God, by the mystery of the Resurrection of your Son, Jesus Christ, you have made us all part of your new creation in the Kingdom of God.  Grant that as we, who profess your faith, may be good stewards and caretakers of this fragile earth, our island home: where we may be steadfast in preserving your creation for generations to come.  All this we ask through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

We're already thinking about next year.  I see this moving in "baby steps," which is why I'm okay with our turnout.  You have to start somewhere and work with what you have.  Moving from here, I feel certain we'll grow our efforts and yield even greater fruit next year. 

Practice Resurrection

Thursday in Easter Week, Year B
Chapel of the Apostles

Sewanee, Tennessee

Luke 24: 36b-48

**This is the second hermeneutic of the sermon, the part where I attempt to apply the text to the here-and-now.  If you would like to see the full sermon text, please e-mail me for a copy.

      
With this kind of living, loving, creative power alive in the world than the Easter life calls us to do something radical, something that does not compute in this world.  With fear and trembling we touch the wounds, we taste and see, and we live our lives in this new Easter creation, the Kingdom of Christ—where beauty, love, justice, and peace reign eternally.  Not only do we live in it, but we are called as stewards of the risen Christ to run it on his behalf!  We cannot remain static, for the resurrection bids us to do the unthinkable:  work for peace, free the oppressed, protect the environment, and live a life of forgiveness.

We say that creation is ongoing; to say this we must admit that crucifixion is also ongoing with many of God’s children.  Immigrant workers in our country who continually face discrimination; the working poor who no matter how many jobs they can humanly manage can never get ahead; Gay/Lesbian/Bi-Sexual/and Transgendered persons continue to be pushed to the margins of society; and all those who just don’t seem to fit our orthodox view of the world—all these and more continue to feel the nails piercing their skin.  Yet, if crucifixion is ongoing, then we must believe that resurrection of God’s children is not only possible but necessary, and necessary for us to work on their behalf.  Practicing resurrection is our response to the Easter life.  Practicing resurrection in our own lives is what Paul is talking about in 2 Corinthians 12 as God tells him, “my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” God’s power is made perfect in Christ’s resurrection and it is also made perfect in ours.  Practice resurrection.

God’s power is made perfect in Christ’s resurrection and it is also made perfect in ours.

The Easter life cannot be measure in economic terms of winners and losers.  The Kingdom of Christ, God’s Divine Commonwealth does not live under the laws of supply and demand.  If Christ is raised from the dead, than the world cannot be seen the same way.  If Christ is raised from the dead than we cannot stay locked and burdened in our own tombs; we cannot avoid the dead places in our lives anymore, we must face them with the hope that Christ will raise us!  Practice resurrection.

    

If Christ is raised from the dead, than we can no longer accept the inequality of living conditions among the working poor.  If Christ is raised from the dead, than we cannot accept starvation, pollution and raping of the planet for profit.  If Christ is raised from the dead, than we must reach out to our neighbors who continue to feel the pain of crucifixion in their lives.  If Christ is raised from the dead, then we can no longer live by thinking.  Practice resurrection.

    

So what do we do now?  What’s the answer?  We can live the Easter life and let Christ consume us in His Church and in the Sacramental grace of the Holy Spirit.  We do what we were created to do—live as images and likenesses of God working for the Kingdom all the while practicing reconciliation and practicing loving one another as Christ loves us.  We live to practice resurrection from our dead places and we are bidden to leave behind our tombs.  We live for the Kingdom and the new creation that has dawned upon us all, let us incorporate our lives into the blessed Trinity.  Thus in this new Kingdom, we may join with the Church triumphant and proclaim:  Christos Anesti, Cristo ha resucitado, Alleluia Christ is Risen.  Amen.

Running the Kingdom, An Easter Message

An excerpt from Bishop N.T. Wright's Easter Vigil sermon, "Living in God's Future--Now," delivered in Durham Cathedral.  Click here to read the full text of the sermon.

My friends are surprised by the fact that I actually like a lot of Wright's theology.  As a liberal theologian myself, I find most of Wright's conservative writings to be very clear in what he says--I appreciate that, especially given his Kingdom theology.  

"But the Easter message generates two other things which are quite new. Yes, we must live our lives from the coming future – but we now know much more clearly what that coming future is, and that gives particular point and direction to the people we are to choose to become, to the habits we are to choose to develop. And yes, forming habits of character is vital, even though it’s difficult, but for the Christian the all-important difference is that we don’t do it alone. We don’t develop these habits all by ourselves. We do it, basically, with the help and energy of God’s spirit; and we do it in company, all of us together. After all, the most basic Christian habit is love, and you can’t do love all by yourself.

 

"Let’s think about these two things for a moment. The resurrection of Jesus, the great fact at the heart of the Easter faith, means that we now know, suddenly and in a blinding flash, what our ultimate future will be. Our ultimate future isn’t just that we bumble along trying to live the present life a little bit better until one day we decay and die, and end up either in the grave or in a disembodied heaven or perhaps both. Our ultimate future is that we will be raised to new life in God’s new world, not only to inhabit God’s new creation, a world full of beauty and life and justice and freedom, but actually to run it on God’s behalf. That’s a solid New Testament truth which the church usually keeps quiet about, but it’s time to get it out of the cupboard, blow the dust off it, and see what it means for today. Running God’s world won’t mean, of course, arrogantly imposing our own will on it; it will mean being God’s stewards, and ruling with his gentle, wise love. To be Easter people, we are called to anticipate, here and now, that future vocation, to look after God’s world on his behalf, and to gather up the praises of creation and present them before the creator. Stewardship and worship, the practice of being kings and priests, are the habits of heart and life that Easter people must acquire.

"Our ultimate future is that we will be raised to new life in God’s new world, not only to inhabit God’s new creation, a world full of beauty and life and justice and freedom, but actually to run it on God’s behalf."

"Stewardship and worship take a thousand different forms. Stewardship means working for God’s justice in the world, for the health and flourishing of the planet and all who live on it, for God’s wise order and exuberant freedom to come to birth in all directions. Pray, in the days to come, about the ways in which God wants you to be a steward in his creation. That’s what you’re going to be doing in the resurrection life; start practicing now. Worship means celebrating God’s powerful deeds in history, in your own history, in your community; it means summing up the praises of the whole creation and expressing them, articulately and with understanding and delight, in the presence of the God who made you, loves you and has redeemed you. Pray, in the days to come, about the ways in which God wants you to worship him, where that should be, how often you should come to the eucharist, and how to worship in private as well. Worship is what you’re going to be doing in the resurrection life; start practicing now."

Earth Day Liturgy: The Green Collects

For Earth Day 2009, I've written a liturgy that a group of brother seminarians and I will be leading next Wednesday, April 22nd.  Titled, "This Fragile Earth:  A Christian Celebration of Earth Day," I wanted to use Anglican formation but original prayers and so forth.

Below are the aptly named, "Green Collects" that will be prayed. These prayers can be downloaded from here without copyright, use them and pray for this fragile earth, our island home!

If you would like a copy of the whole service to reproduce for local use, please e-mail me and I'll send you a copy.

The Green Collects for Earth Day 2009

O God of the forest, you bring forth life in the trees, the birds of the air, and every creature who lives under the canopy of your protection:  enable us to conserve the beauty of this land for our children and our children’s children, that we celebrate the mystery of your loving creation and seek to do it justice in our every day lives, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Christ of the seas, your fish and water-life creatures show us ways to live in a world that is deeply connected to our own:  grant that we may not take more than we need, and that we are always thankful for the abundance that you provide and so we remain not greedy but ever gracious towards your creation, through Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Creator God of the dome of the sky, you brought forth birds to fly, the sun to warm us by day, rain to nourish and refresh the soil, and the moon and stars to shine brightly at night:  we beseech you to help us preserve clean air to sustain our life.  May we reduce our pollution of harmful gases that harm your wonderful creation so that we may be take in the breath of your saving Holy Spirit each and every day, through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Almighty God, through the gift of baptism we are marked as your own in this world and called to proclaim your love to the ends of the earth: give us the strength and courage to be modern day prophets for your creation, that we may behold the gifts of joy and wonder in all your works; through Jesus Christ our Redeemer.  Amen

Earth Day Liturgy: A Green Litany

A Green Litany

A litany is a collection of statements and responses that we offer to God.  The Green Litany was modeled on the Great Litany found in The Book of Common Prayer, page 148.  This litany may be reproduced for local use.

O. Lord, have mercy upon us.

R. Christ, have mercy upon us.

O. Lord, have mercy upon us.

O. God the Father and Mother of the universe,

R. Have mercy upon us.

O. God the Son, redeemer of the whole world,

R. Have mercy upon us.

O. God the Holy Spirit and inspiration in our daily lives,

R. Have mercy upon us.

O. Holy Trinity, One God,

R. Have mercy upon us.

O. That we may live as faithful stewards of the gifts of the earth,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. That we may be faithful in recycling and reusing everything that we share,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. For better use of our water, our soil, and the air we breath,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. That the government of this and every land will seek to promote innovative ways to produce clean and renewable energy,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. That we may show love to those who cause damage and pollute the Earth for profit,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. That we may reduce our burdens and demands upon this Earth,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. That we may be free from consumerism and coveting more than we need to live,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.

O. That we may stand upright to speak the truth in love about those things that continue to plague and harm our Earth,

R. We beseech you to hear us Good Lord.