I loved the way the Ash Wednesday service transpired. We started out upbeat and worked our way toward the solemnity of placing ashes. Back in the day, when I was a little Catholic girl, I do not remember ever having the choice of where the ashes were placed. They went on your forehead, for everyone to see as you left the service. This night (and the 2 others prior) I gave our people the choice of forehead or hand. The majority leaned in with their head, a tiny nervous smile on their faces, waiting for the ashy inscription of a cross and the words "Remember you are dust and unto dust you will return."
Placing ashes upon someone has been one of the most sacred activities of my ministry. Last year a woman who had dwindled to become almost a specter of herself because of the cancer ravaging her body came forward. As I place the ashes upon her forehead, I was as certain as I could be that this would be the last time she ever experienced this ceremonial reminder of her earthly finitude. And indeed, a few weeks later, sometime following the celebration of Resurrection, she left us, becoming one with the earth. I wonder whose face will no longer be here this time next year.
This act is not a sad one. In my entire faith journey my belief in life after earthly death has not been shaken, except for tiny tremors from time to time. I have been granted the comforting belief, which is actually stronger than faith as it approaches the level of certainty, that death in this world is only the opening to a great eternal life. To be marked by ashes is a promise to me, a promise that the uncertainties of this life will one day be behind me. It is a promise that my best days here will not come close to being as wonderful as my worst days there.
I'm looking forward to the remaining days before we celebrate Resurrection as a time to ponder my life now and how it can best be lived. I'm so glad that I will one day no longer have to concern myself with such questions.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Why Are We Here?
This is the concluding title in the message series A Movement for Wholeness in a Fragmented World all about the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Last year I did one message about the DOC and folks said "We need to do this every year." This year I expanded it to "Who Are We?", "What Do We Believe?" and this Sunday "Why Are We Here?" The first two were fairly easy to explain; well, as easy as anything Disciple is to explain. We're Stone/Campbell Restoration folk who are not easily lead but yet want to be open to to Christian unity. But this week's question is tougher. What I'm seeking an answer for is what unique thing do we offer the world? I asked the question on Facebook and one of my fellow pastors said "Why do we have to be unique?"
Certainly, we don't. In fact, the thing that is somewhat unique about us, that drive toward Christian unity, would ultimately make us NOT unique but part of an amorphous thing known as the Christian church universal. However, I don't see that happening any time soon. There are two main reasons I can think of:
There is perhaps nothing that we are doing that others aren't. But we are a driving force for openness, for accepting the different races and cultures into our midst (although, they are forming their own congregations, not joining existing ones. See #2 above). We appreciate and foster an atmosphere of self-exploration of faith issues. We're pretty passionate about justice, and many in our midst are devoted to peace. Since we don't have any creed but Christ, our tent is pretty big and open.
I have long thought that the beauty of the CC (DOC) is just that -- no creed but Christ. And I for one can see a very broad interpretation of our affirmation that "Jesus is the Christ, the son of the living God" and "acceptance as personal savior." Which means that lots of folks can come in, kick the tires on this thing called church, search for meaning and belief, and still be accepted without pressure. No one is asked to hurry up and make a decision. No one is threatening hell and damnation. We try mightily to practice love and acceptance. We also fail at that -- but not for lack of desire.
I believe in the More (see Marcus Borg "The Heart of Christianity") and think that life is better when we understand that More in the way that Jesus did. The Disciples have let me come to this place, to search, to seek, to learn, to laugh, to grow. Maybe they exist only for me -- but I doubt it!
Certainly, we don't. In fact, the thing that is somewhat unique about us, that drive toward Christian unity, would ultimately make us NOT unique but part of an amorphous thing known as the Christian church universal. However, I don't see that happening any time soon. There are two main reasons I can think of:
- Those who like black and white answers are very ill at ease with those of us who see shades of gray. Biblical literalists are rarely capable of granting space to those of us who see the Bible in shades of metaphor.
- People are tribal. We like to know how to identify those who we know will agree with us and defend us.
There is perhaps nothing that we are doing that others aren't. But we are a driving force for openness, for accepting the different races and cultures into our midst (although, they are forming their own congregations, not joining existing ones. See #2 above). We appreciate and foster an atmosphere of self-exploration of faith issues. We're pretty passionate about justice, and many in our midst are devoted to peace. Since we don't have any creed but Christ, our tent is pretty big and open.
I have long thought that the beauty of the CC (DOC) is just that -- no creed but Christ. And I for one can see a very broad interpretation of our affirmation that "Jesus is the Christ, the son of the living God" and "acceptance as personal savior." Which means that lots of folks can come in, kick the tires on this thing called church, search for meaning and belief, and still be accepted without pressure. No one is asked to hurry up and make a decision. No one is threatening hell and damnation. We try mightily to practice love and acceptance. We also fail at that -- but not for lack of desire.
I believe in the More (see Marcus Borg "The Heart of Christianity") and think that life is better when we understand that More in the way that Jesus did. The Disciples have let me come to this place, to search, to seek, to learn, to laugh, to grow. Maybe they exist only for me -- but I doubt it!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Funerals and people on the edge
This week I met a woman who has cancer, the kind that has spread and makes her eligible for an experimental study.... 3 kinds of chemo drugs instead of 2. She had surgery and is miserable. Her family keeps encouraging her to fight, to try to beat this monster that is ravaging her insides. It's a tough call. As Christians, I believe that we should try to live life to its fullest. I believe that we need to give it our best shot. But I'm not so sure that we are obliged to partake of every single thing that the medical profession can throw at us. And how do you tell your loved ones "I'm tired. I'm through. I don't want to go through the pain."
Of course when someone is discouraged and hurting, perhaps they are not the at peak of their decision making capacity. But it is their life -- or the life that God gave them. Should they not be able to make that decision on their own? Does age and stage of life enter into the decision?
As I was with a loved one of this woman, I wondered aloud whether I would have the courage to fight -- or the courage to slip away. My faith tells me that there is something better to look forward to after this life, so why shouldn't I, if it's my time, go? But I could be wrong, and that little bit of doubt could change my mind so that I would hold on here as long as possible. Who knows?
Another woman did pass to new life this week, a lovely woman in her 90's. I didn't know her until these past few years when the ravages of life had already taken its toll. But I am told by others that she was a wonderful person, warm and full of life in her younger years. Her husband faced some difficult medical decisions toward the end, ones that she was incapable of making for herself. 100 years ago there would have been no decisions to make, only a vigil to keep. But God has given us the intelligence to prolong the inevitable, and we, being creatures prone to fear, are often reluctant to say no to them.
I've often said that I would rather preside at a funeral than a wedding. People probably think of me as jaded or twisted when I say that. Both are celebrations of new life. But my reasoning is this: the new life that is begun at a wedding is often completely overlooked by the enormity of planning for the ceremony itself. If couples spent 1/2 the time they spend on planning a ceremony in planning a life together, the divorce rate would probably be much lower. A funeral on the other hand is less about the ceremony and more about the remembrance of a life well lived and the send off to a better place. While it is sorrowful, it is also filled with hope. I imagine that balloons are being released and bubbles are being blown for the one who has just arrived on the far shore, even as we are gathering the flowers and committing the ashes to the dirt. So, if on any given day I had my choice between the two ceremonies, I'd take the last one.
That's not to say that I'm not REALLY looking forward to celebrating the weddings of some of the youth who I have gotten to know through the past few years. I'll be crushed if at least SOME of them don't ask me to officiate. (I've got one coming up in a couple of years -- hope they don't change their minds.) It is my hope that I might help them through to a life together that is full of joy and capable of withstanding sorrow.
Life is good, marriage can be great -- but death doesn't have to be bad either.
Of course when someone is discouraged and hurting, perhaps they are not the at peak of their decision making capacity. But it is their life -- or the life that God gave them. Should they not be able to make that decision on their own? Does age and stage of life enter into the decision?
As I was with a loved one of this woman, I wondered aloud whether I would have the courage to fight -- or the courage to slip away. My faith tells me that there is something better to look forward to after this life, so why shouldn't I, if it's my time, go? But I could be wrong, and that little bit of doubt could change my mind so that I would hold on here as long as possible. Who knows?
Another woman did pass to new life this week, a lovely woman in her 90's. I didn't know her until these past few years when the ravages of life had already taken its toll. But I am told by others that she was a wonderful person, warm and full of life in her younger years. Her husband faced some difficult medical decisions toward the end, ones that she was incapable of making for herself. 100 years ago there would have been no decisions to make, only a vigil to keep. But God has given us the intelligence to prolong the inevitable, and we, being creatures prone to fear, are often reluctant to say no to them.
I've often said that I would rather preside at a funeral than a wedding. People probably think of me as jaded or twisted when I say that. Both are celebrations of new life. But my reasoning is this: the new life that is begun at a wedding is often completely overlooked by the enormity of planning for the ceremony itself. If couples spent 1/2 the time they spend on planning a ceremony in planning a life together, the divorce rate would probably be much lower. A funeral on the other hand is less about the ceremony and more about the remembrance of a life well lived and the send off to a better place. While it is sorrowful, it is also filled with hope. I imagine that balloons are being released and bubbles are being blown for the one who has just arrived on the far shore, even as we are gathering the flowers and committing the ashes to the dirt. So, if on any given day I had my choice between the two ceremonies, I'd take the last one.
That's not to say that I'm not REALLY looking forward to celebrating the weddings of some of the youth who I have gotten to know through the past few years. I'll be crushed if at least SOME of them don't ask me to officiate. (I've got one coming up in a couple of years -- hope they don't change their minds.) It is my hope that I might help them through to a life together that is full of joy and capable of withstanding sorrow.
Life is good, marriage can be great -- but death doesn't have to be bad either.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
We call ourselves Disciples
This past Sunday, and for the next 2 weeks, my messages are about the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). I know that people don't pick churches because of denomination much any more. That's fine by me--- it just means that a few more people stumble into this wonderful group of folks. I've identified with the CC(DOC) for 20 years now. I have served as a deacon and an elder and the superintendent of the Sunday School, the Chair/Moderator of the Board -- and now I'm a pastor, in spite of all of that. I've taken part in too many "parking lot" meetings and know that most of us feel qualified to run our churches, thank you very much. We're stubborn and opinionated, and sometimes we're even downright mean to one another. If we were a family I'm sure we'd be labeled as dysfunctional.
But I think that can be a good thing -- if we truly are a family, that is.
My family of origin is much the same way as what I've described above. Now that we're the adults, we aren't as mean to each other as we used to be, and we can still have our moments of insensitivity. But we love each other with a passion. We'd do anything we could to help each other out if any one of us was hurting. Now we won't go overboard -- we're not all that sentimental. But we care about each other.... not only because we are related by blood, but because we've grown to like each other too.
That describes the Disciples to me. We are as varied as my family of origin -- in opinion and attitudes toward life, and yes, even in sexual orientation. But our strength is our ability to give space to everyone to be. Space for everyone to explore their faith without limits. At least this is the church that I belong to.
Of course there are also folk within this clan who don't want to let bygones be bygones. They want to make rules and regs as to who can serve and how often and when and where. But I think those folks are the minority, and we do our best to try to accommodate them without letting them run the entire show. It's a delicate balancing act... but I think it's what Jesus wants from us.
The biblical witness to the life of Jesus doesn't portray someone who was into making rules and setting up fences. He didn't seem like the kind who only hung out with the like minded. Jesus spent lots of time healing and urging people to "sin no more," but I don't think he ever turned away someone who wasn't able to live up to that expectation.
We call ourselves Disciples. We're certainly not perfect -- which is good, because I couldn't be here if we were. We don't ask you to check your brain or your opinions at the door. We would like for everyone to play nice, but in our better moments we're able to forgive you when you don't, in the hopes that you'll return the favor.
We call ourselves Disciples. A movement for wholeness in a fragmented world. We spend a lot of time collecting food and clothes and funds for those who don't have; we spend lots of energy waiting tables and building houses for those who need food and shelter. We aren't all that good at putting our faith into words (although we're working to get better), but we never hesitate to put our faith into action.
We call ourselves Disciples -- of Jesus of Nazareth. He's a pretty tough act to follow some days, but we're giving it our best shot.
I call myself a Disciple. Thanks for taking me in.
But I think that can be a good thing -- if we truly are a family, that is.
My family of origin is much the same way as what I've described above. Now that we're the adults, we aren't as mean to each other as we used to be, and we can still have our moments of insensitivity. But we love each other with a passion. We'd do anything we could to help each other out if any one of us was hurting. Now we won't go overboard -- we're not all that sentimental. But we care about each other.... not only because we are related by blood, but because we've grown to like each other too.
That describes the Disciples to me. We are as varied as my family of origin -- in opinion and attitudes toward life, and yes, even in sexual orientation. But our strength is our ability to give space to everyone to be. Space for everyone to explore their faith without limits. At least this is the church that I belong to.
Of course there are also folk within this clan who don't want to let bygones be bygones. They want to make rules and regs as to who can serve and how often and when and where. But I think those folks are the minority, and we do our best to try to accommodate them without letting them run the entire show. It's a delicate balancing act... but I think it's what Jesus wants from us.
The biblical witness to the life of Jesus doesn't portray someone who was into making rules and setting up fences. He didn't seem like the kind who only hung out with the like minded. Jesus spent lots of time healing and urging people to "sin no more," but I don't think he ever turned away someone who wasn't able to live up to that expectation.
We call ourselves Disciples. We're certainly not perfect -- which is good, because I couldn't be here if we were. We don't ask you to check your brain or your opinions at the door. We would like for everyone to play nice, but in our better moments we're able to forgive you when you don't, in the hopes that you'll return the favor.
We call ourselves Disciples. A movement for wholeness in a fragmented world. We spend a lot of time collecting food and clothes and funds for those who don't have; we spend lots of energy waiting tables and building houses for those who need food and shelter. We aren't all that good at putting our faith into words (although we're working to get better), but we never hesitate to put our faith into action.
We call ourselves Disciples -- of Jesus of Nazareth. He's a pretty tough act to follow some days, but we're giving it our best shot.
I call myself a Disciple. Thanks for taking me in.
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