As we approach this coming Labor Day we will remember in our prayers this Sunday all who labor. We will specifically pray for justice in the workplace, justice being an imperative both in Hebrew Scripture and in the Gospels. Worker justice in our country continues to be a serious issue. The issue was the reason for the forming of labor unions in the first place; but now labor unions lack the influence they once had. Some would argue that that is a good thing, others would disagree, but the presenting problem of justice in the workplace persists still, however we intend to deal with it.
Worker justice has not only to do with a fair wage, but it also has to do with a safe environment, affordable benefits, adequate leisure, reasonable hours and due respect. Labor is a gift when it is performed in a just environment. It is the means of artful sacrifice; an outward and visible sign of human creativity that makes and remakes our world for the better. Labor performed in the context of injustice is quite the opposite. It debases and injures and stifles the creativity of the human spirit. Unjust employment practices abound in our city, our state, our country and our world broadly unseen, and it is our solemn promise as the Baptized that we will "strive for justice, and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being." That is job one for us Christian people.
This Labor Day weekend when we take our leisure, thank sincerely someone who labors; thank them for what they do, and for doing it well, for it is our labor that transforms our world, labor a rudiment of the process of Creation, labor that clothes and houses and feeds and waters and heals our world. We are lifeless without our sacred labor, so we give thanks for our own privilege of labor ourselves.
Alfred North Whitehead wrote that the created order, an outward and visible reflection of the Creator Godself... is process, an ever becoming and evolving reality...the created order and God in it still becoming what might be...the universe blossoming into goodness...Our labor then a high metaphor for this becoming...work and rest, work and rest...and at the last, on the seventh day, the joy of jobs well done.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Of Grief and Memory
Katharine's father will have been dead a year this coming September. We just spent a couple of days in Panama City going through some of his things. We passed on the back beach road Coram's restaurant, a place where he would go each morning around five thirty a.m. for coffee. He would smoke cigarettes and spin yarns with the charter boat captains. "What ya'll catching, Joe Ed?" He knew all their names, the names of their boats, about their families, and they loved him. Everyone Rhett knew or met he treated with dignity. It was the way he was.
We passed the Panama City Yacht club (yacht is stretching it a bit) where he used to race sailboats in his younger days; just off shore of the bay, the intra-coastal waterway snaking through the salt marshes of the Gulf coast towards Apalachicola, a route he took often just to get away among the cypress, osprey and oystermen. He was always happy on the water, and with things maritime.
The house is empty now; a few books about old boats, old records and pictures in boxes of lives lived, faded by the persistent salt air. I held an old wristwatch to my ear. It wasn't ticking. Still a faint hint of cigarette smoke in the house. Outside the bird feeders were empty and askew. I marvelled that the birds and waterfowl missed him too. Out on the dock there was still a rope coiled by his hands waiting to be cast or tied by his genius. A seagull wheeled and cawed as an indifferent wind hummed in the water sedge.
Everywhere was his presence, so called forth by memory, a grace beyond reckoning; memories no less true than if he had been standing there with us. He was there because love was there. Eternal life in the present moment engendered by a love that remembers, a love that will never die. We committed his ashes to the deep of St. Andrew Bay. May they exult there come home at last, and may his gracious presence exult with us here and now, wrought by loving memory. Let us forever remember each other, for remembering is a cardinal act of love.
We passed the Panama City Yacht club (yacht is stretching it a bit) where he used to race sailboats in his younger days; just off shore of the bay, the intra-coastal waterway snaking through the salt marshes of the Gulf coast towards Apalachicola, a route he took often just to get away among the cypress, osprey and oystermen. He was always happy on the water, and with things maritime.
The house is empty now; a few books about old boats, old records and pictures in boxes of lives lived, faded by the persistent salt air. I held an old wristwatch to my ear. It wasn't ticking. Still a faint hint of cigarette smoke in the house. Outside the bird feeders were empty and askew. I marvelled that the birds and waterfowl missed him too. Out on the dock there was still a rope coiled by his hands waiting to be cast or tied by his genius. A seagull wheeled and cawed as an indifferent wind hummed in the water sedge.
Everywhere was his presence, so called forth by memory, a grace beyond reckoning; memories no less true than if he had been standing there with us. He was there because love was there. Eternal life in the present moment engendered by a love that remembers, a love that will never die. We committed his ashes to the deep of St. Andrew Bay. May they exult there come home at last, and may his gracious presence exult with us here and now, wrought by loving memory. Let us forever remember each other, for remembering is a cardinal act of love.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Of Church and Church Going
When we say church what have we said? In the New Testament literature the word for church is eklesia, which literally means "gathered assembly." It comes from the ancient Greek that was used to describe the public assembly that governed the Polis, Plato's vision of a city governing themselves in an order that resembled the order of heaven. In Platonic thought all things in earth bear the form of the ideal in heaven. The Greek way of thinking dominates the first century Near East. Common Greek was the so-called international language of the Mediterranean in literature and in commerce. The Greek academy modeled from Egypt to Persia to Rome was the way people were educated. The early church communities and Synagogues were modeled after the public assemblies envisioned by Greek culture. These were communities that served each other in mutuality, the common good being the guiding light, the common good symbolized by the concept of justice, distributive and restorative justice. Plotinus referred to Plato's Republic first and foremost as an imaginative reflection on justice. Honor and dignity for each member was held up against the shame of slavery and Imperial occupation, so insidious in this world.These were learning communities, communities of intellectual inquiry which sought enlightenment and maturity. The Greek philosophical academy and the eklesia had much in common. They were places, gatherings, that inspired and empowered its people to shape for the better the people of the community gathered, as well as the world around them that they served. These were communities of enlightened change and reform and relevancy.
The post-modern church, some writers argue, is beginning to wake up to this ancient reality. The Church over the centuries in not so small a degree has abdicated its relevancy. It has largely become a private and exclusive organization that has woefully served itself. Our hyper individualistic culture affirms such a church and bids the church to mind its own business, to keep silent about the important matters that face us from generation to generation. To a great degree the church has complied.
Brian McClaren argues that the church might well be waking up to its true calling. The ones that don't he says will surely die. Church, at its heart, is a community of passionate people who bring their questions and opinions and hopes and dreams; their intellect and imagination, their arguments and quandaries, and their love of neighbor into a community that is committed to maturing into the people God intends them to be; an enlightened community that first and foremost serves our neighbor, the stranger, the lost and the least, a community of healers, a community of nonviolence, stewards of this paradise named Earth....a community that shapes with artful intention the world for the better. We celebrate this high call, this high responsibility, as often as we can in beautiful worship, in prayer and praise. Such a life is praiseworthy beyond all reckoning. We nourish each other and encourage each other for the way ahead. We continuously remind ourselves as a gathered people, who in truth we are: We are God's people. And we don't mind our own business. We mind the business of creation; we mind the business of creating with our God the world; reclaiming Eden inch by inch as God would have it. Therefore it is the business of the church to be enlightened citizens going forth into the world, speaking and enacting the truth as best we can, in public, strengthened by our artful gathering...critical mass, we, for the greater good... If we don't...who will?
The post-modern church, some writers argue, is beginning to wake up to this ancient reality. The Church over the centuries in not so small a degree has abdicated its relevancy. It has largely become a private and exclusive organization that has woefully served itself. Our hyper individualistic culture affirms such a church and bids the church to mind its own business, to keep silent about the important matters that face us from generation to generation. To a great degree the church has complied.
Brian McClaren argues that the church might well be waking up to its true calling. The ones that don't he says will surely die. Church, at its heart, is a community of passionate people who bring their questions and opinions and hopes and dreams; their intellect and imagination, their arguments and quandaries, and their love of neighbor into a community that is committed to maturing into the people God intends them to be; an enlightened community that first and foremost serves our neighbor, the stranger, the lost and the least, a community of healers, a community of nonviolence, stewards of this paradise named Earth....a community that shapes with artful intention the world for the better. We celebrate this high call, this high responsibility, as often as we can in beautiful worship, in prayer and praise. Such a life is praiseworthy beyond all reckoning. We nourish each other and encourage each other for the way ahead. We continuously remind ourselves as a gathered people, who in truth we are: We are God's people. And we don't mind our own business. We mind the business of creation; we mind the business of creating with our God the world; reclaiming Eden inch by inch as God would have it. Therefore it is the business of the church to be enlightened citizens going forth into the world, speaking and enacting the truth as best we can, in public, strengthened by our artful gathering...critical mass, we, for the greater good... If we don't...who will?
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Of Real Presence
Several All Saintsers have asked me questions about this past Sunday's sermon in which I mentioned the terms transubstantiation and consubstantiation. The former, an early medieval construct in Roman Catholicism, according to The Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms, means that the bread and wine in the Eucharist are "essentially changed" into the body and blood of Christ. The latter is a late medieval understanding of the Eucharist in which the bread and wine remain the same, but that they are conjoined or coexist with the body and blood of Jesus. Both miss the point, and certainly are a far cry from the theological understanding of the Eucharist in the early church.
The Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is found in the community gathered, the assembly of the people of faith; the presence of God in Christ manifest in the commonweal of passionate and imaginative hearts grown wise in the practice of goodness. The celebrant in the Eucharist is in truth the people gathered there. Indeed in the early church every one would have been vested in chasubles (now only worn by priests) as the celebration depended on them. The priest was quite practically the one set aside by the community to preside over this celebration. Someone has to do it, else everyone would be speaking at once. Meals cause us to gather as family. Meals represent our life and labor, and the sacred art of sacrificial hospitality, that nurtures us for the way ahead. Meals are the center of life because they quite literally keep us alive. Meals are something worth celebrating. (If you haven't seen the new movie Julie and Julia, you must)
When the bread and wine are placed on the altar, that is the life and labor of God's people offered for God's blessing of empowerment. They are there also as a symbol of transformation. Bread and wine are the alchemical result of wheat and fruit changed into gracious gifts of nurture. So at the Eucharist we gather with God fully present among us and we offer our life and labor as a means of transformation for ourselves and our world. Our God is a God of change living within the life and labor of God's people become nurture for the hungry and thirsty of our world. Our life blood and the work of our flesh, not unlike the Christ, are taken, blessed and given to God's beloved upon the altar of the world...a gracious table to which all are invited, especially the ones who need this nurture the most. That is why at its heart, the Eucharist is a profound symbol of justice; and where there is justice, so there undeniably is the real presence of God.
The Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist is found in the community gathered, the assembly of the people of faith; the presence of God in Christ manifest in the commonweal of passionate and imaginative hearts grown wise in the practice of goodness. The celebrant in the Eucharist is in truth the people gathered there. Indeed in the early church every one would have been vested in chasubles (now only worn by priests) as the celebration depended on them. The priest was quite practically the one set aside by the community to preside over this celebration. Someone has to do it, else everyone would be speaking at once. Meals cause us to gather as family. Meals represent our life and labor, and the sacred art of sacrificial hospitality, that nurtures us for the way ahead. Meals are the center of life because they quite literally keep us alive. Meals are something worth celebrating. (If you haven't seen the new movie Julie and Julia, you must)
When the bread and wine are placed on the altar, that is the life and labor of God's people offered for God's blessing of empowerment. They are there also as a symbol of transformation. Bread and wine are the alchemical result of wheat and fruit changed into gracious gifts of nurture. So at the Eucharist we gather with God fully present among us and we offer our life and labor as a means of transformation for ourselves and our world. Our God is a God of change living within the life and labor of God's people become nurture for the hungry and thirsty of our world. Our life blood and the work of our flesh, not unlike the Christ, are taken, blessed and given to God's beloved upon the altar of the world...a gracious table to which all are invited, especially the ones who need this nurture the most. That is why at its heart, the Eucharist is a profound symbol of justice; and where there is justice, so there undeniably is the real presence of God.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
California Dreamin'
The General Convention of the Episcopal Church affects me in a similar way that our liturgy does. Both are at once a celebration of who we are, of our life and labor together, of shared ministry and mission; but they are also imaginative speculations as to what we might become, or perhaps more rightly said, what we are in truth becoming.
Our liturgy is an enacted dream, an intentional speculation of what our world is intended to be, prophetic utterance speaking the future into being. At General Convention we imagined how the world would be healed via the millennium development goals, by tearing down the wall between Israel and the West Bank, by advocating steps to environmental sustainability, by addressing global warming, demanding just wages and worker justice, by decrying racism. We left California dreaming of a world intended by our God as best we could discern it: a just world of mutuality and compassionate interdependence.
Our liturgy is the way from week to week we Episcopal Christians imagine, dream of God's promised future. We recount who we are in the word of God. We remember that God acts among us, calling us forever into relationship. We remind ourselves that it is God's intention to heal and clothe and feed and dignify. We gather at God's table as equals who are all made in God's image, reminding ourselves that life begins at table together. We are reminded that it is our common life that feeds us and empowers us for this future dream that trembles into being as we speak; and then we are sent into the world as waking dream acting as if it were true. Dreams are not fantasy, but artifacts from the future, grounded in profound reality. If we but look we will see evidence of their already becoming, taking root in our world and in our lives. The dawn is coming, perhaps sooner than we know, when we will awake and find our dream, which is God's dream, to be true.
Our liturgy is an enacted dream, an intentional speculation of what our world is intended to be, prophetic utterance speaking the future into being. At General Convention we imagined how the world would be healed via the millennium development goals, by tearing down the wall between Israel and the West Bank, by advocating steps to environmental sustainability, by addressing global warming, demanding just wages and worker justice, by decrying racism. We left California dreaming of a world intended by our God as best we could discern it: a just world of mutuality and compassionate interdependence.
Our liturgy is the way from week to week we Episcopal Christians imagine, dream of God's promised future. We recount who we are in the word of God. We remember that God acts among us, calling us forever into relationship. We remind ourselves that it is God's intention to heal and clothe and feed and dignify. We gather at God's table as equals who are all made in God's image, reminding ourselves that life begins at table together. We are reminded that it is our common life that feeds us and empowers us for this future dream that trembles into being as we speak; and then we are sent into the world as waking dream acting as if it were true. Dreams are not fantasy, but artifacts from the future, grounded in profound reality. If we but look we will see evidence of their already becoming, taking root in our world and in our lives. The dawn is coming, perhaps sooner than we know, when we will awake and find our dream, which is God's dream, to be true.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Of What's Going to Happen
It is clear that once again the issue around which the General Convention's energy is centered is the issue of human sexuality. Some would say, "why don't we get about the mission of the church, and get past matters pertaining to sex. There is a part of me that agrees, but we will not as a church ever get about robust ministry of bearing kindness and justice to our world until we deal with matters of kindness and justice in our own house.
In this convention we have a golden opportunity to move past the so-called Anglican Communion imposed moratorium on Episcopal elections of persons "whose manner of life" causes grief among some in the communion. There is an overwhelming mood in the House of Deputies, and among visitors who have testified in hearings, that favor full inclusion of all the baptized in the full sacramental life of the church, including the eligibility of our lesbian and gay sisters and brothers to be elected to the Episcopate. The resolution calling for the full inclusion of all the Baptized relative to ordinations, including gay and lesbian persons, (D025) passed overwhelmingly, 68%, in the House of Deputies. I proudly cast my vote for this resolution. We are not a church of moratorium; we are a church of inclusion, hospitality and blessing.
In spite of such inclusive sentiment, the bishops as a whole seem to be balking. They fear moving too fast, the acute matters of justice in our midst notwithstanding. They, many of them but certainly not all, say that we need more time for the Anglican Communion to catch up with the reality that homosexual persons are not perverse, but human beings like you and me, who have great gifts to offer the church. The reality in truth is that we already have moved on in the church. Homosexual persons are already serving with distinction as deacons, priests and bishops, and that will continue. Part of the overwhelming support stems from the wish that we name what already is the truth. The support was diverse: men and women, youth and older adults, people of color, from dioceses north and south. It is high time. The bishops will most likely take up this matter on Tuesday.
What will happen? The resolution could be rejected approved or amended, but no matter, the church will continue on its road to justice and welcome and inclusion, and we will continue to get healthier because of it, and we will become more relevant and empowered to speak the truth of the Gospel, because we will be practicing what we have been preaching. All people, all people are made in God's image, and we now have a golden moment in time to hold up this truth outwardly and visibly. That is what will happen, now or later.
In this convention we have a golden opportunity to move past the so-called Anglican Communion imposed moratorium on Episcopal elections of persons "whose manner of life" causes grief among some in the communion. There is an overwhelming mood in the House of Deputies, and among visitors who have testified in hearings, that favor full inclusion of all the baptized in the full sacramental life of the church, including the eligibility of our lesbian and gay sisters and brothers to be elected to the Episcopate. The resolution calling for the full inclusion of all the Baptized relative to ordinations, including gay and lesbian persons, (D025) passed overwhelmingly, 68%, in the House of Deputies. I proudly cast my vote for this resolution. We are not a church of moratorium; we are a church of inclusion, hospitality and blessing.
In spite of such inclusive sentiment, the bishops as a whole seem to be balking. They fear moving too fast, the acute matters of justice in our midst notwithstanding. They, many of them but certainly not all, say that we need more time for the Anglican Communion to catch up with the reality that homosexual persons are not perverse, but human beings like you and me, who have great gifts to offer the church. The reality in truth is that we already have moved on in the church. Homosexual persons are already serving with distinction as deacons, priests and bishops, and that will continue. Part of the overwhelming support stems from the wish that we name what already is the truth. The support was diverse: men and women, youth and older adults, people of color, from dioceses north and south. It is high time. The bishops will most likely take up this matter on Tuesday.
What will happen? The resolution could be rejected approved or amended, but no matter, the church will continue on its road to justice and welcome and inclusion, and we will continue to get healthier because of it, and we will become more relevant and empowered to speak the truth of the Gospel, because we will be practicing what we have been preaching. All people, all people are made in God's image, and we now have a golden moment in time to hold up this truth outwardly and visibly. That is what will happen, now or later.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Of Polity and Poetry
I feel like I've been in Anaheim a week, but I've only been here just three days. It's been that busy: Legislative committee meetings, deputy orientation, countless briefings. It's all been a little disorienting. Just stepping off the plane into forty five per cent humidity makes me feel like I've landed on another planet (I'm not complaining)....sixty foot tall palm trees everywhere. Katharine and I aren't seeing much of each other because of the tight convention schedule.
There are incredibly diverse interests represented at General Convention both among deputations and the various interest groups that come and make their case to the church. Media are everywhere: Integrity USA, a national organization of Episcopalians (of which All Saints is a member), who argue for the equal inclusion in the church, have a large and highly organized presence; We will in a few days vote on a resolution regarding the full inclusion in the sacramental life of the church of all the baptized (without discrimination or moratorium regarding sexual orientation); lobbyists for Native American justice issues are here; activists for racial reconciliation; advocates for the rights of refugees; worker unions; brochures and advocacy papers covering just about every cause abound. It's all very much overwhelming. Getting physically acclimated is quite enough without the myriad human issues that press all around us. Such is the polity of a church that is very much alive in its witness, a church called to bear justice to our world, a church living into the imperitive of the Gospel.
But this morning I was yet again reminded of what truly makes us Episcopalian Christians... and that's the way we worship. The opening Eucharist yet again showed me the beauty and the power and the peace that our liturgy embodies. At the end of the service my anxieties were quieted; I felt grounded and renewed for the work ahead. The music included classic Episcopal hymns as well as Hispanic and African music. We are no longer a national church culturally, but a global one, and the diverse artistic expressions in the service showed that we are authentic about our diversity.
Our call as a community of faith in mission and ministry for those beyond our doors is what our polity serves...Our polity, the infrastructure, as it were, of mission and ministry...our mission and ministry our story told in prose. Our worship is our story told in poetry...a beautiful speculation as to what we are becoming...what God wishes God's beloved and God's world to be. It is between the now and the not yet that we live the life of the church...the sacred ground upon which we stand..amid the poetry and prose of life telling a life story, God's story and our story still becoming in poetry and prose that beginning now, just as it always has begun, will redeem all in all.
There are incredibly diverse interests represented at General Convention both among deputations and the various interest groups that come and make their case to the church. Media are everywhere: Integrity USA, a national organization of Episcopalians (of which All Saints is a member), who argue for the equal inclusion in the church, have a large and highly organized presence; We will in a few days vote on a resolution regarding the full inclusion in the sacramental life of the church of all the baptized (without discrimination or moratorium regarding sexual orientation); lobbyists for Native American justice issues are here; activists for racial reconciliation; advocates for the rights of refugees; worker unions; brochures and advocacy papers covering just about every cause abound. It's all very much overwhelming. Getting physically acclimated is quite enough without the myriad human issues that press all around us. Such is the polity of a church that is very much alive in its witness, a church called to bear justice to our world, a church living into the imperitive of the Gospel.
But this morning I was yet again reminded of what truly makes us Episcopalian Christians... and that's the way we worship. The opening Eucharist yet again showed me the beauty and the power and the peace that our liturgy embodies. At the end of the service my anxieties were quieted; I felt grounded and renewed for the work ahead. The music included classic Episcopal hymns as well as Hispanic and African music. We are no longer a national church culturally, but a global one, and the diverse artistic expressions in the service showed that we are authentic about our diversity.
Our call as a community of faith in mission and ministry for those beyond our doors is what our polity serves...Our polity, the infrastructure, as it were, of mission and ministry...our mission and ministry our story told in prose. Our worship is our story told in poetry...a beautiful speculation as to what we are becoming...what God wishes God's beloved and God's world to be. It is between the now and the not yet that we live the life of the church...the sacred ground upon which we stand..amid the poetry and prose of life telling a life story, God's story and our story still becoming in poetry and prose that beginning now, just as it always has begun, will redeem all in all.
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