Stoic and Warm

I heard a woman recently describe her time in a mainline church as "stoic and warm."  I thought this was an apt description.  I have grown up in church communities like this.  The people are warm and friendly, inviting and welcoming.  Most of the time it's a community of people who love one another and offer support when needed.

But they are also communities where expressing feelings out loud or visibly is discouraged.  I remember as a child being shushed and being told to be still.  I have seen discomfort in the faces of people when babies are crying or if someone unexpectedly gets up and says something aloud.  Waving hands in the air during the music is not the norm in these churches.  Spontaneous words of prayer are met with disapproval.  Sermons with some fire or some emotion are seen with suspicion.

During my time of sabbatical, I have been attending different churches, and many of them have not been mainline churches.  I have to admit that, although I feel discomfort at times, I feel the emotion that permeates the people in the room.  I feel an energy that I don't feel in my usual habitats.  There was one time when I felt very close to tears at the end of the service.

I've been told for a long time that the mainline churches, like the United Church of which I'm a part, are thinking churches, more for people who want to engage their minds.  The pentecostal or evangelical churches that I've been visiting are more feeling churches, more for people who want to engage with their bodies and their hearts.  But why the separation?  I know in the mainline churches, it's come to a point where there is deep suspicion and distrust of evangelical churches.  We point fingers at their lack of social justice and inclusivity.  We roll our eyes at the hand raising during worship and cringe at the lyrics in the music.  For all I know, the evangelical churches are doing the same, pointing fingers at our lack of biblical literacy, suspicious of our lack of emotion, and disdainful of the way we hang on to tradition.

I wonder though what it would look like if we began to look, not with suspicion, but with curiosity.  Why do we do what we do?  Why do they do what they do?  How might we learn from each other?  I don't think we need to become like each other, because there is always room for diversity and people feel comfortable in different places, but I do think there is a lot we could learn.  Might we bring in some of that warmth and vitality to our mainline churches, without sacrificing the engagement with our minds?  Might we learn to experience worship with our whole bodies rather than just listening and reflecting?  Would more people find a home in mainline churches and find the spirit they've been seeking if we began to act in less traditional ways that meet a culture with different needs and expectations?  I think it's worth a try.

Clinging and Suffering

If someone were to ask me what I cling to in life, I might answer that I cling to those things I hold dear in my life, like my family, my friends, my vocation, and my faith.  All of these are very important to me, so I would say that I cling to these things, not wanting to lose them, wanting to keep them in my life.

I recently heard a comment though which has caused me to rethink this.  I learned that in Buddhism, clinging is linked to suffering.  When we cling to something, we suffer.  When we hold on tightly, when we are reluctant to let go, when we are grasping tightly to what we hold dear, this can create suffering.

The first example that comes to my mind is my children.  I love them very much, but when I cling to them, when I want what I think is best for them, or when I fear for them so much that I take over their lives and make them dependent on me, I create problems, mostly for my children.  But if I am grounded in my love for them and put my trust in their abilities, then I will know that the best way of loving them is by giving them the freedom they need to experience life on their own.

If I cling to my faith, am I letting it grow?  Am I being open to new possibilities?  Am I truly listening to the experiences of others and letting them change me?

Many communities cling to tradition and the way things have always been done.  In a world that is changing rapidly, many find security and safety in places that haven't changed or in rituals that remain the same.  If communities remain unchanged in the midst of a changing world, are they truly able to meet the needs of newcomers or of those outside the community crying out for help?  I'm not saying that communities need to react to every passing fad or use the changing world as a model for their own change.  Communities do need to be aware though of what is happening around them.  They need to discern and be open to new ideas that might bring fruit to their own community, that might help them meet the needs of those around them, and that might offer them a new vision and a new way of life.  Jesus said repeatedly in the gospel of Matthew, "You have heard it said...but I tell you..."  The old way or the way it's been done in the past isn't wrong or bad; it may just need to be reevaluated and given new life. 

I've been reciting Psalm 63, which in verse 8 reads, "I cling to you; your right hand upholds me."  When I say the words, "I cling to you," I imagine myself at Jesus' feet, clinging to his feet, a person in distress, crying out for help.  But when I imagine the second half of that verse, "your right hand upholds me," I see myself in the palm of God's hand, uplifted to the sky, facing out, and ready for what the world has for me.  Clinging has it's place, especially when we are in distress, but I would rather be upheld, open to what may come, knowing I'm being supported, feeling that holy presence as an ally on my journey.

May you find the freedom that comes with letting go of that to which you cling.  May you be enriched by new possibilities and new ideas.  May you feel God's right hand upholding you, loving you and supporting you on your journey.  May it be so.

Remit 6 Defeated

For those of you active in the United Church, you'll know a bit about Remit 6.  Almost three years ago, a motion was passed that would make the three streams of ministry in the United Church - ordained, diaconal, and designated lay - into one.  All would be ordained.  This motion, before it could go into effect, had to be approved by a majority of presbyteries and congregations.  We found out this week that the motion was defeated. (Presbyteries voted 26 yes and 50 no.  Congregations voted 713 yes and 950 no.)

Whenever I engage in conversation on this remit, I am amazed how many different opinions exist on this one remit.  For that reason alone, I am glad it wasn't passed.  Some voted against the remit, because they didn't feel it honoured the diversity of ministries.  They felt it was a way of honouring ordained ministry, which is seen as the norm, while dishonouring the identity and value of diaconal and designated lay ministries.  Still others felt that diaconal and designated lay ministers don't get the respect they deserve and so a remit like this would help with that.  It would give diaconal and designated lay ministers equal recognition in congregations and make it easier for them to offer the sacraments in a variety of settings and more access to ecumenical jobs where only ordained ministry is recognized.

There were some who voted no though because they believe ordained ministers to be set apart and more highly educated.  Ordained ministers are required to have a master's of divinity (MDiv).  The United Church values a highly educated clergy and some don't believe that the education of diaconal and designated lay ministers fall into this category.  Although the remit did call for some action on more master's level education for designated lay ministers, it didn't seem to be enough.  I heard from many that some of these conversations were hurtful and seemed to devalue the education of some and presume that they were less worthy in their ministry role because they didn't have an MDiv.

Many agree that this remit was created to make is easier for the church to define and recognize paid-accountable ministers.  There is a lot of confusion, among lay people and those in ministry, when it comes to defining these three streams of ministry.  Only 7% of ministry in the UCC is diaconal and I believe the number of designated lay ministers is similar.  People are most familiar with ordained ministry, both inside and outside of the church.  I admit it can be exhausting always trying to explain the differences, usually over and over again to the same people and in the same context.

As a diaconal minister, I admit to having mixed feelings about the defeat of this remit.  In some ways, it would have made life easier.  I wouldn't have to fight for permission to do sacraments.  I wouldn't see job postings seeking only ordained ministers.  People wouldn't constantly question my credentials and my ability to do fill the role as minister. 

But I also have a fear of losing this distinction.  Being a diaconal minister is important to me.  I initially chose the route of diaconal ministry because I felt drawn to being a Christian educator and also didn't feel I was a person of the Word; I didn't feel I was a preacher.  That has changed.  I have discovered that I love to lead worship and that preaching is a strong component of that.  In my training to become a diaconal minister though, I learned that diaconal ministry is an identity, not just a function.  For me, diaconal ministry values community, social justice, advocacy and being an ally, valuing and honouring everyone's story, and honouring and valuing my own story.  It's about meeting in a circle and checking in with one another.  It's about recognizing and saying hard truths, but valuing other people's truths.  Although it can be difficult to have people misunderstand and devalue my status as a diaconal minister and although I may have to explain myself over and over again, I value my identity as a diaconal minister too much to see it be subsumed as a part of the larger umbrella and norm of ordained ministry. 

The diaconal community gathers in a number of ways.  Nationally, we try to meet every two years.  We are meeting in Winnipeg next month, in April, and I am highly anticipating it.  Each time we gather, I am enriched, inspired, and I am fed.  There is nothing like it. 

I know at this gathering that there will be some disappointed at the defeat of Remit 6 and some who will be rejoicing.  We are one community of people who are diaconal, but we are all very diverse, which is how I see all ministry in the church.  We are a community of ministers, with similar values and functions, but we are also very rich in diversity, each with a different story.  We are not all the same and our expressions of ministry are distinct and varied.  I hope that someday this is seen as a gift and not something to be fixed.

Longings Neglected

In the September 2017 United Church Observer, in an article entitled "Yearning," written by Jan Dawson, she quotes Barbara Sheppard, who leads silent retreats at the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine convent in Toronto, who said this:  "We often think going on retreat will bring us into a place of stillness and calm.  However, it is often the times of silence and solitude, the context of prayerfulness, that can actually open us up to the buried longing we have been neglecting."

This quote resonated with me and my recent experience at Loyola House for an eight day silent retreat.  I went to be still and connect with God.  Instead, I discovered a deep longing within me, which brought a lot of tears and some deep soul-searching.

I realize now that the part of me with which I connected at the retreat had been neglected.  My life is very full, which isn't something I want to feel guilty about.  I didn't neglect this part purposefully.  When I'm working, I am very busy, and I enjoy the pace of my life, but in keeping up with that pace, I leave certain things behind.  Now that I am on a three month sabbatical, I'm realizing that these neglected parts are badly in need of attention.

Spanish mystic John the Cross wrote, "You fled like the stag after wounding me; I went out calling you, but you were gone."  During the retreat I struggled to feel God's presence and to connect with the Spirit surrounding me, even in nature where I always experience an energy that moves and fills me.  This time I felt empty and alone, even abandoned.

Much of my time away from work in recent years has been for further study or vacation with family.  I haven't been leaving much time for God in my life.  I'm realizing that God hasn't gone away; it's me that's been gone and now I'm struggling to find my way back.  So, I'm spending time in prayer every morning, pausing before meals to give thanks, my journal writing is more about my feelings than my thoughts, I'm reading more and watching screens less, and, in general, finding my way back to God, connecting with that presence in which "we live and move and have [our] being." (Act 17:28)

When I return to work, the challenge will be to find a balance between the busyness of the work I love and continuing to connect with that holy presence in my daily life, not waiting to find I've neglected it during my next sabbatical.

Silence on Retreat

Last week, I began an 8-day silent retreat at Loyola House in Guelph, part of the Ignatius Jesuit Centre.  I have never done a silent retreat for this long, my longest begin over a weekend.  We all had our own room, we ate communally but silently, and we each met with a spiritual director for about 30-45 minutes every day. 

Many people told me that they could never do a silent retreat for that long.  I knew it would be challenging, but being silent is not difficult for me and I wondered whether I would settle right into it.  What I discovered is that although I can keep from speaking for a long periods of time, the difficult part is silencing my thoughts.  Becoming still is not just about not moving or speaking; it's about opening yourself to the universe without distractions.  And my thoughts are definitely a distraction. 

I did a lot of praying.  I attended daily mass every day before lunch.  I went for long walks.  I journalled.  I read scripture.  I did a lot of sleeping.  The days become very long when they are not filled with tasks. 

By the end of the eight days, I was ready to be home.  I have realized that I have a lot of work to do.  In the time that I spent connecting with God, I realized that if I'm not doing this on a regular basis, in my daily life, it becomes much more difficult during a time of retreat.  I also realized that I have some emotional blocks from childhood that I still need to work through.  Although I felt lonely during this time and frustrated with my inability to connect with the holy, I learned some valuable lessons that I will continue to work through during my time of sabbatical. 

During my time, I memorized a psalm, which I will carry with me into my times of prayer.  It starts like this:

You, God, are my God.
Earnestly I seek you.
I thirst for you.
My whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched and
where there is no water.  (Psalm 63)

When I first read the psalm, I envisioned my surroundings and maybe my culture as that dry and parched land, but as I kept reading and reciting it, I realized that this dry and parched land lies within me.  During this time of Lent (which began on Wednesday), I will continue to find the time each day to connect with the universe around me and with God and maybe find an oasis. 

Meetings at Wells

As a part of my sabbatical, I am visiting other churches, observing different ways of worship.  I love a good sermon, and today I was blest with one.  From previous posts, you might be aware that I love the stories of the bible, and some of my most enjoyable sermons are those that unpack the stories of the bible and offer new discoveries and thoughts around well known passages.

Today's sermon was focused on the Samaritan woman at the well, from the gospel of John (4:1-42).  It's a long story, complex and full of meaning.  One difficulty in preaching on this passage is deciding on what aspect you are going to focus and then sticking with it.  The preacher talked a bit about bad theology and the preconceived ideas around this story.  For example, that the woman was one of low virtue because she has been married five times and was now living with someone who was not her husband.  We were reminded today though that no where in this passage does Jesus talk about sin and repentance.  This woman may have been the victim of multiple divorces because of her barrenness.  The man she is living with now may have been the brother of her most recent husband, as the custom in those days was that the brother was to care for his dead brother's wife.  This Samaritan woman is inquisitive, she challenges Jesus' words, she is witty, and she is the first apostle in the gospel of John.  She was the first to share her story of Jesus, to witness, with others. 

One aspect of the story that was new to me was around the setting of the story.  Jesus is in Samaria, which in itself is unusual, as there is great animosity between the Jewish and Samaritan people.  Jesus, tired from his journey, decides to rest by a well, Jacob's well.  The preacher described this place as a romantic spot, a place where people came to be betrothed.  Meetings at wells is mentioned other times in our bible, i.e. the place where Isaac's wife, Rebecca, was found, where Jacob first fell in love with Rachel, and where Moses met his wife, Zipporah.  Even if this well wasn't the same well, the people hearing John's gospel would have recognized the significance.  When two people (usually a man and woman) meet at a well, something significant happens, usually a marriage. 

The preacher asked us to imagine Sleeping Beauty being asleep and being awoken by a kiss or the Princess kissing the frog and the frog transforming into a prince.  These are common motifs in our current culture.  For first century people familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures, this coming together at a well, one coming to rest after a long journey, and one offering the other water, was a common motif for some kind of transformation or new kind of relationship.  I'm not suggesting a romantic relationship between Jesus and the Samaritan woman, but it was possibly symbolic of the connection between these two people. 

To me this is another example of the ties the Christian stories with the Hebrew stories and that without truly understanding the Hebrew stories, we cannot full understand the intricacies of the stories about our Jewish saviour, Jesus, who had Jewish disciples, who was challenged by Jewish authorities, and who was raised by a Jewish family and in a Jewish culture.  Even the Samaritan woman recognized Jesus' Jewishness and challenged him on his authority in Samaria.  But even the Samaritan woman recognized in this man something special.  He claimed to be the Messiah.  Was he?  Whether he was or not, he was important enough to her to make sure her community knew about him and that he was welcomed among them to continue teaching and sharing stories with them.  May we all be so bold. 

"Even What They Have Will Be Taken From Them"

I am a huge fan of Rob Bell and especially of his podcast, or "Robcast".  I listen every week, and although I usually love his interviews and being introduced to wonderful people doing amazing work, I mostly love to hear him preach.  I look forward to his sermon podcasts and am inspired by them.  It's very rare I hear him preach on a bible passage and am not blown away by his interpretation, but last Monday was one of those rare occasions.

Last Monday, the scripture passage on which he preached was from the gospel of Matthew, chapter 25.  This is sometimes referred to as the gospel of the talents, but in the New International Version, the one to which Rob referred, it is the parable of the bags of gold.  In this parable, a master is going on a journey, but before he leaves, he entrusts his money with three of his servants.  Upon the master's return, the first servant, who was given five bags of gold, now has ten.  The second servant, entrusted with 2 bags, now has four.  The third servant, entrusted with one bag, buried the bag, so now still has only one bag.  The first two servants are rewarded while the third is punished.  Most times, people interpret this passage as one about the gifts God has given us, and about people not using them or wasting them, not sharing them with the world.  Rob interpreted it differently, but in every interpretation, the master of the parable is seen as God, and the servant who buried the money is seen as the one who made the wrong decisions and deserving of his punishment.  Rob's was a really good message, but I see this story in a different light.

While I was studying to be a minister, I heard a different interpretation of this passage that I have never forgotten.  An instructor of mine shared an interpretation which she had heard from the indigenous people of Guatemala.  It has stuck because it was in interpretation offered by an oppressed people, people fighting for their rights and freedom, people struggling with poverty, people under the heavy weight of empire.  I think the indigenous people of Guatemala are much closer to the reality of Jesus and his followers than any other theologian that I have heard interpret this passage. 

The people of Guatemala did not see the master of this story as a God figure.  In this passage, the master is the Roman Empire, or one of the very powerful people supporting this empire.  This master was going on a journey, but felt it important that his wealth not just remain stagnant.  He wanted to see it grow while he was away, so he entrusted three of his servants to do this for him while he was away.  Two of the servants did exactly as asked but the third decided to take a stand.  The third servant decided that taking part in this world of empire, a world where the rich get richer and poor get poorer, a world where wealth and poverty were more important than compassion and justice, was not what he wanted to support.  Instead of increasing his master's wealth, he buried it.  It was an act of defiance. 

Of course, his master was not happy with this servant.  I find the most telling verse in this story, spoken by the third servant, to be, "I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed."  We know by experience today that many do not earn the wealth they own.  This master had gained wealth in harvest that he had not sown and had gathered wealth where he had not scattered seed.  And the master agrees with this statement but doesn't see anything wrong with it.  He just tells the servant that if he didn't want to invest his master's money, he could have at least put the money in the bank to earn interest.  For the master, it's all about gaining wealth, even if it's just a little interest.  In his mind, this third servant has gone against the system, has set a bad example, and needs to be silenced.  The master believes in a social system where "whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance.  Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them."  Of course, oppressed peoples, then and now, would have found this system to be a familiar one, a world where the rich gained in wealth, and the poor increased in suffering.

In this version of the story, Jesus is the third servant.  Jesus is the defiant one, teaching a new way of life.  Jesus is the one who needs to be silenced by the current establishment.  Jesus is the one who will suffer.  Jesus is preparing his followers for his death at the hands of the Roman Empire and those in support of it.  It's a common story, one experienced all too often by those with little power. 

At the time I heard this story, I wondered how the rest of the bible might be heard if interpreted by oppressed people.  Many in the church are too powerful or have too much privilege to really and truly hear the story as it was told in first century Israel, but I think we need to try.  Too many stories are taken out of context and used to judge people.  My god is one of compassion and justice, with a preference for the poor and marginalized and this is the god I hope to uncover as I continue to explore the bible.