Zoe

A B C 'S OF A MOMENTARY MONK: i FOR INNER PEACE-SHALOM

We had lunch together at the Wild Ginger, one of my favorite restaurants. We cried together over the meal. She is one of my favorite people on the planet. I love her and would do just about anything for her--she is that cool!  Extremely gifted, talented, professional, refreshingly earthy, loves God and wants to keep it that way but having trouble hanging on. A painful and toxic situation has left her deeply scared and wounded. I could relate! "I just want to be at peace," she said. I could relate again. Everyone can relate. It is the response of every beauty queen when asked what they desire most for the planet! We all want it. Ironically we cannot "get it" or consume it. We receive it, by grace. Usually, when we are at our wits end. After we have given up-which is possibly the point!

I doubt I helped. It stirred many emotions in myself. I thought about peace. I tend to think of it in terms of the absence of war, strife, poverty, pain. I remember reading someplace along the line that there has never been a time in human history where humans have not lifted a rock, club, spear,  sword, arrow, AK-47, or a heat seeking missle against one another. Could this be?  Yup. So what is peace? Why do we crave it and yet find it so elusive and antithetical to the human experience? To the Hebrew shalom was not the absence of something it was the fullness of something.....If it is not the absence of conflict then what is it?

Jesus said,  "I did not come to bring peace, but a sword."  Later on he said, "Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you?" What does this paradox mean? Afterall, he is the Prince of Peace!

Back to the Hebrew. Peace was being full of something that made one whole, in the midst of all of the chaos, conflict and emotional pain.  A favorite rock band of mine, Radiohead, says  it means that everything is in its right place. But agian--what is it? Is it possible that inner peace and peace is not the absence of something but the fullness of something and ultimately Someone?  I propose that inner peace is the presence of love and the one who is the Great Lover--even in the dark tunnel of chaos.

May you unexpedly experience whole, overflowing, extravagent, robust, and ferocious love by the Great Lover as your body is warmed this Spring season. Every time the sun heats you this Spring and you get that wonderful tingling sensation that takes you from a slight chill to a bone warming sensation, remember the warmth of a serendipitous love from the Great Lover who authors peace when you feel overcome by the temporality of chaos.

We cleared our eyes, smiled and hugged one another when we finished our lunch. If I was right next to you as you read this--I would hug you too!

A B C 'S of a momentary Monk: H is for Humor

My good-bye was his hello. Every once in a while you meet people who will  forever mark you in a noticeable fashion. He was one such guy. I first met him when I walked into his apartment at a local extended care facility. He had a stroke ten years earlier and was in a wheel chair. I never really saw him in the wheel chair. I intentionally did not use the word suffer because he never appeared to be suffering. That is what was so remarkeable about him. He never complained. I know he suffered...deep inside. Yet he had such stellar character you would never know the challenges he was facing in mind and body. 

I came to meet him and give him communion. It was my first month at a new church and just after Easter Sunday. He handed me an envelope with a card in it. Unsure of what lay ahead, I opened it. The outside of the card was a retro black and white picture of a old school Minister at his pulpit preaching.  He was in his clerical garb, black rimmed glasses, and a crew cut haircut, I think you get the picture. The caption read, "And now for my Easter Sunday sermon."  I then opened the card to read the inside. The image was the same crusty and stodgy Minister, of another denomination not related to mine I am sure. He was shaking his finger at the people and the caption read, "Where the hell have you all been since Christmas?" Now that was funny. I met a guy, who was earthy and got it. We laughed together, as much as he could since the stroke effected one side of his mouth. But he was still very much alive, the twinkle in his eye told me that immediately. I could see through his eyes into his soul. Here was a guy who made lemonade out of lemons, loved God and loved his life.  We talked often of his love for Christ, his family and of flying. When I left he gave me another envelope-the offering envelope. Every time I came to visit and offer him communion he gave me a check for the ministry of the church.  He lived a great life!

A week ago I walked into his new room--a hospital room. He had just had another stroke. He was in pretty bad shape and the moment I saw him I knew that we were saying good-bye. I was to him anyway. I woke him up saying something pastoral I am sure. He struggled to say anything. I could not hear him either. I had to put my ear down close to his mouth. He softly and yet audibly muttered and stuttered P-P-P-Pray. I prayed Psalm 23 as his good right hand reached out from under the bed covers to hold my hand. I assured him that there was nothing to fear. He would open his eyes with a big hello in the arms of Jesus Christ! I told him I loved him, the church loved him, his family loves him and Jesus loves him. I spoke softly. It was very peaceful and intimate. He stuttered again. R-R-R-R-Ready! I reiterated to him that he is ready. I said more things which I can hardly remember because I knew he was completing his life and I was doing everything in my power not to cry right there with him. Although, I would have had no problem with that. I tried to go and he would not let my hand go. We just sat there for a few moments. Then he released my hand. As I walked away he did something I will never forget. He waved good-bye at me. I could not help but let a tear roll down my cheek. I never wipe away my tears because they have something to teach me. I remember listening to my tear all the way to my car where it dried up.

Later that same night he died. He died a good death. What did my tear say?  My good-bye was his hello!

ABC's of a Momentary Monk: G for Gathering

I like to be in groups with people but I need my space too. I guess that makes me an introvert. My wife Dawn, she is a true extrovert. She is energized by groups. She amazes me. She is like the Duracell bunny--she keeps going and going and going! Literally.  I like to have a reason for being in a group. It could be to do mission or service, pray, worship, love, even laugh. I always have a reason for being. Even if it is to be absolutely ridiculous, in the words of Bono. In the church we call this kind of gathering a community. I don't really like the word community because it is overused and carries with it too many sentimental versions of why gather and around whom do we gather. I mean Hallmark makes most good things into an emotion and most emotions are too subjective to be unifying. I am a purist so I risk further definition. We gather around Jesus. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, "Christ stands at the center." I like that. When I am in a gathering of Christian men, women and children, I honestly picture Christ hovering at the center; transcending conversations, sentimentalities,  emotions, expectations, rituals, and yes, even conflict. Literally and cosmically Jesus is at the center. I mean how else could such a diverse group of oddly political and precariously individualistic people stay unified, unless the gathering is gathered by a grand gatherer? 

The A B C's of a Momentary Monk: F for Fasting

I love cookies. In fact I never met a cookie I did not like. I definitely have a sweet tooth, for chocolate big time.  So the thought of fasting is, well, a bit of a stretch for me. I like to spiritualize that discipline away saying I pray plenty so I do not need to fast. The purpose of fasting is to create space to pray. Well that is one reason to fast. But there are many types of fasts. Like the one that was forced on me today. Okay so, we have a septic system that had major difficulties about a month ago. It was a "situation" in which we ended up replacing the drain field. So much for a family vacation to Hawaii. It all went into, well--you know what! Not my idea of a great way to spend my hard earned on, if you know what I mean. Well today we had 10 cubic yards of top soil delivered to be spread over the newly graded back yard. The plan was to spread it out and throw down some seed in between raindrops and then power wash off the driveway and look forward to playing golf when the ark finds dry land again sometime this July. After about 10 wheel barrow loads my back went out. I went down to  my knees and could not stand up straight. I am sure the image of a 46 year old man crawling up to his front door and into the house must have been a funny sight to the eagle that fly's over our house, but I was hurting--big time!  It was a forced fast. A fast from my schedule, my to-do list, my ability to rely on myself to get it done. A fast is  fast and I am experiencing one. I certainly have had time to pray. It is ironic how our best laid plans are just that-ours. Gods sense of humor is always something different. I can move a little bit right now but not sit down as of yet.It might take a few more hours and Advil before I can get around more effectively!  I am typing this on my side. I think all of this writing is making me hungry. I think I will have my daughter bring me another cookie.

Virtue Unfettered: The ABC's of a Momentary Monk; E is for ENOUGH

When is enough, enough?  I ask myself that question daily. What do we/I/my family really need?  We  really produce alot of garbage and trash. That is one of the emergent questions that seems to make alot of sense right now. I do like that this economic correction is forcing us to ask that question more frequently. Coming from a place of global power we certainly have enough food, water, and adequate health care compared to nearly 90% of the rest of the world.  When 20,000 children die every day because they don't have food and another 15,000 children die due to unclean potable water---we certainly have enough--as I reach into my mini fridge to grap another bottled water to drink--and fill the landfill up with one more thing that we certainly have enough of--empty plastic water bottles. I am reminded of an image that burns in my mind  from my most recent trip to Africa.  I see lots of children  using old empty water bottles as sandals to protect their feet from the ground and the sharp reminders of those who have enough and those who do not. It sure makes me wonder what we are doing.  And and even more pertinent question is how should I live as a Christ follower in light of this sampling of images?  For one thing I think i will bring water in my reusable water bottle. I cannot change the entire world but I can change this one thing today. Will you join me?  In the triumph if the therapeutic the feeling of happiness has certainly replaced the notion of happiness as being a by product of a larger communal good. Enough is enough. Maybe it is time to return to a Edensitic happiness and set aside our hedonistic happiness....Enough already!

images of faith

  Most of the images that we use in worship now are from a recent CD released by CIVA - Christians in the visual arts. It is a compilation of "higher art" images edited by Sandra Bowden. I highly recommend the CD. Not only do the images tell the story of the Christian message but with the images comes a description of each image. It helps to translate what we see with how we perceive it. The explanations are powerful and give us a context and a framework to interpret what we SEE and in this sense we are compelled to "pray with our eyes wide open."  This compilation contains over 100 images and was made available by a grant from the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship. It is but another powerful example of how my generation is incarnating the word spoken and alive. It is our kerygma! I have included a favorite of mine for you to enjoy. It is entitled Golgotha by Rouault. In fact it is the wallpaper on my iphone. Enjoy! 

Perhaps...

My eyes are burning. I have not gotten much sleep the last couple of days because I have spent many late nights listening to the new U2 CD No LIne on the Horizon. I am not sure why I am such a fan. I always have been....we go way back....to the beginning. When they started I was starting, as a human. Perhaps it is the fact that Bono and his wife Alli have been married a little longer than Dawn and me. Perhaps it is that we have just grown up together. They, u2, were always something that I could count on. Perhaps it is their ability to capture the soul of the planet and we just groove--but then again we are not alone. Many of you do too---groove together with them,that is! Perhaps it is their love for Africa that I share with them. Perhaps it is the intellectual genius that I so enjoy--even though I am a very simple man trying to dabble in deeper things. Perhaps it is their ability to collapse the material and spiritual in such a way that there really is a blurring on the horizon of those two boundaries. They are ontologically metaphysical without losing their penultimate imminence.  Perhaps it is just the love of rock and roll, the violence of it that awakens us to the madness and the sheer BS of many things that we place such heavy stock in. Perhaps it is their ability to write and sing of love, angst, searching, wandering, questioning and at times finding. Perhaps it is because they have the gift of dripping us in emotion through storytelling. Perhaps they connect all of what it means to be human in a three minute convergence of creation and inspiration so that we feel it through all of our physicality. Perhaps it is that I never know if I have just listened to a rock song or worshipped-God, or both! Perhaps it is becasue they capture the tensions, paradox, and antinomy of life in such a way that i neither know if I have just experienced loneliness or joy....because through all of their melodious searchings there is always one thing....hope! They have the ability to create a playground for us to wander in, without fear, they allow us space to swim in the world of the unknown and to surrender to that sacred and primal place. It is a womblike experience in which the etheral and material simultaneously co-exist.  Perhaps it is all of these things. Perhaps it is none of these things. Perhaps it is just the gravitas of grace. Perhaps.

CARNIVAL

 

You thumbed grit

into my furrowed brow,

marking me

with the sign of mortality,

the dust of last year's palms.

The cross you traced

seared, smudged skin,

and I recalled

other ashes

etched

into my heart

by those who loved too little

or not at all.

Memento

Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem revertis.

Translation, “Remember, human, that you are dust, and to dust you will return. Genesis 3:19

What we call the beginning is often the end/And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.  T.S. Eliot

Lent is messy. Litter is uncovered and strewn everywhere. It is muddy and even dirty. The word Lent itself comes from a word that means to lengthen.  The days get longer. Depending on where you live the earth thaws. Our streets are dirty and yes dusty. Our windows need to be cleaned and returned to their luster. This time of year we notice, the dirt. How filthy things are. Even the earth needs a good bath and thus the phrase “April showers bring May flowers.”  The rhythms of our calendar reflect these sacred movements. It is ironic that we as humans who inhabit the planet tend to forget these Sabbath rhythms of life in the calendar year. I start to notice my yard. The new mole holes, about 35 of them this year, (those things really bug a type-A like me-but I digress). Last year’s leaves are lying around and even blowing in the wind. They are almost totally disintegrated for compost but in need of refreshing too.  So it is time to remember, to start at the end. Yes, it is time to get basic and even primal again.

Sometimes the only antidote for a viral dis-ease whether in our bodies or outside of us is to take more of it, in little doses. That is what we do in Lent, during Ash Wednesday. We take more of the poison. We rub ash, dirt, on our foreheads in a service of ashes. In this rubbing of the cross on our foreheads we remember our death and our life; our baptism. It is only the elect who really keep this profound moment in the church calendar, but with gusto we enter into it.

For those of us “within” the faith we remember our mortality and to whom we belong in baptism. We are marked on our foreheads with the cross of Jesus, which is a tree to call us back to a garden—to remember our story and therefore our journey. The marketer in me says that the imposition of ashes is our “branding,” a form of being tattooed into a life and a journey of meaning.

Coming back to our baptism is hard work, like spring cleaning; we roll up our sleeves and turn on the power washers. We just need to get the dirt off. We really need to get bathed in fresh waters and new beginnings. All of us as elect and penitent sojourners, will learn once again that when lent is over we have failed and God has not and, most importantly, we are not in the same “place” that we began.

Lent even has its own shape in the liturgical year. It is shaped by 40 days. The week before the first Sunday of Lent is characterized by the Carnvial or Fat Tuesday as we have become acquainted in a popular context. It is a season of “partying hard”--Sorry about that. I would ask that you not enter into that as your Pastor.  Then Ash Wednesday and the three days before the first Sunday of Lent are characterized by three key images: the expulsion from paradise, the great flood and the journey of Abraham and Sarah.

I invite you to enter into our form and shape as we have imagined it for this year. I invite you to open the door and walk through, reluctantly if you need to but just consider taking one step at a time. Memento, remember the end, the beginning, and the middle and then pray that you would be re-membered into the story of all stories.

Our journey is to Easter and beyond. I will be preaching through a Lenten sermon series entitled, Lent Prayer Journal: People, Prayers, and Pilgrim Provocations.  I will use this season of 40 and the shape of time to get primal as a source of spiritual reflection, renewal, and contemplation and to get de-littered. I will build one prayer on the next, growing in ethos, imagination and potential strength as we grow closer to our endtroduction—Easter! This end and thus beginning is our promised land. There will be special music and other assorted resources to aid you in your journey to be different than when you began. I am reminded of a great quote by St Francis of Assisi (I think he said it) “When I do not feel close to God, who do I imagine moved?” It is a rhetorical question that calls us to get re-membered as a person, a church, and a chosen people to God’s story and not our personal version of it.

But there is More!  In a world gone awry always wanting more, here in this journey is what we all really need, really want. It is not more, more, more, which is just “more of the same” but just plane More! The MORE!

Please share with me what you find here during this season. My guess is that you will find clothing for your nakedness (Adam and Eve), a burning bush (Moses), the whisper of God (Elijah), the silence of God (Job-the Biblical character - not a job, but you just might find a job too), hearts that thaw and turn home (Jeremiah), prodigals returning, lost being found, your own life, your own soul, your own reason for being, your much needed More!

By the way aren’t clean windows the best?  You can see so much better and further too!

art is not what you see, but what you make others see--edgar dega

Is it possible that God is using the artist to recreate using image?  The more I think about what is happening today the more I wonder if in the beginning God created using the word and then the word became flesh--read image.  In a defragmented world the beauty of truth is being recast, reformed, recreated through the breathe of God through the artist and poet. 

Is it possible that this says more than, "It is finished" ? 

 Isn't the sacrament of the Lord's Supper a living picture of the original?  Something to consider...