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Ecclesiastes is on my mind. Life feels discouraging lately, in church and in society. The economy is in a hard place. Long time business owners are closing their doors. Unused factory buildings have weeds growing in the parking lot. Houses along the street where I walk Jazz are empty. At church we are working harder than ever, but we seem to be falling farther behind.
In the midst of all this, Ecclesiastes has a special power and relevance. Solomon observed all that is done “under the sun” and found it full of vanity. All of life ultimately is vain and precarious. In spite of the great store we put on it, it will disappoint us. The business or the organization that is thriving today may falter and disappear before long. It is best not to put your final trust in these temporal things.
This is not to say there aren’t joys in life. There are simple things to be savored each day. “Light is sweet, and it is pleasant for the eyes to see the sun.” (11.7) We should enjoy the pleasures of work, nature and family life, the book reminds us. There is an inherent goodness to created things, even as we sense their fleetingness.
A few years ago I read a book on the history of Adrian, Michigan, where I live. Often the author mentioned a certain business or group that met in a particular place, and I would picture the location now in my mind, and usually either the building no longer exists or it is being used today for a totally different thing. All things pass away, as Ecclesiastes says.
Long ago when I knew a little Hebrew, I took an exegesis class on Ecclesiastes. We sat in a classroom and took turns translating verses aloud. One day, early on in the class, my turn came to translate 2:17, “So I hated life, because what is done under the sun is grievous to me, for all is vanity and a striving after wind.” I remember right after I said this sentence aloud, the whole class burst out laughing. I was going through a hard time in life, and I must have said these words with great feeling! Ecclesiastes is good medicine for people who are weary and sick at heart.
But the pessimism and realism of Ecclesiastes needs to be tempered with the Christian hope of eternal life. Ecclesiastes says death is the end for all no matter who they are or how powerful they are. Which is true, as far as it goes. To the Christian, though, death is not the end. The resurrection of Jesus has brought to light the life and immortality of the gospel (2 Tim. 1.10).
So Ecclesiastes helps me put this life in perspective. It is impossible for this earthly life to satisfy. Only Christ can satisfy, and only his spiritual kingdom is an eternal home. This Old Testament book reminds me of a simple truth: this world was never meant to fulfill our deepest longings. Our ultimate joy is only found in eternal life with God.
(My last act as Interim Associate Pastor at Y1P is to officiate at a wedding, off-campus, this afternoon. I must admit that I usually lean heavily on old homilies...but this time I wrote something from scratch.)
Things go awry.
You can almost rely on it. Life is going along smoothly, as beautiful as this gorgeous day, this lovely bride, this kind-hearted groom. That’s what we want for you, the smooth ride, the good weather, the supportive friends, the expansive blessings of providence showered upon you.
But the vows you will make to one another are for other times.
They are moments away, these holy and heavy words that will bind you, making two people into one marriage.
The apostle Paul wrote to young communities of faith, not to young couples, but he expressed himself in ways that we bring to weddings because the words are not romantic but holistic. They prepare us for the times when things are less fabulous, more earthly, not-so-divine and fully human.
We read the words from scripture and exchange the historic vows knowing that we are not alone in finding commitment challenging, knowing that like so many other people all we can do is the best we can do, knowing that we are standing on the shore of the great, glad river of God’s Love, a river we will need to visit to draw a cup of kindness, a bucket of compassion, a pool full of forgiveness when the moment calls for it.
You’ll need them when things go awry, these thoughtfully crafted and poetically expressed promises, more grittily summed up this way. You promise to be there for each other not just through highs, but through lows, not only when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. You promise to forgive each other not just for locking the keys in the car or forgetting an anniversary, but for being fallible and broken human beings who will surely make worse mistakes and say the wrong things and turn out to be somewhat different from the people you believe yourselves to be today.
You will receive many gifts, beautiful things you will appreciate and for which you will write many thank you notes, no doubt! But the real treasures are the promises you give each other today, word gems that give you a place to look for help and encouragement no matter what the future brings. It’s my prayer that you will remember these things when you need them, and be blessed by having said them to each other.
Recently, I’ve had a lot of people picking my brain about how they can become a writer/speaker. Here’s what I tell them… or what I wish I would have told them, depending on the situation.
1) Have something to say. Yeah, I know it seems obvious, but there are a lot of charismatic people out there who… well… don’t have much to say. You don’t want to be one of those.
How do you figure out your message? Well, pray about it. If you listen to someone else speak, and you get really, really angry, figure out why. Is it because they are not saying it the way that you would? How would you say it? Listen to your own petty jealousies, because they just might be directing you. Think about what gifts that you bring to the ministry. Do you have a unique perspective because of your religious background, age, ethnicity, technological skills? Have you done some interesting activism? Is your church growing? Do you have artistic, poetic, or musical skills? What do you have to say that the church is dying to hear? Be certain that you’re passionate about the subject, because you may be speaking about it for a long time to come.
2) Produce work. When you know what the topic is, then begin to read everything you can on the subject. Don’t just limit your reading to church books. Reach outside of our field and find out what other experts are saying as well, because sometimes the most interesting work is done when a religious leader takes cutting edge research and then reflects on it within his or her context. Then, start to write. Blogs have lost a bit of steam, but they are still an excellent way to get started when you don’t have another platform. Writing a blog can get you into the discipline of working every day. You can rework blog posts for magazine articles. And, for a while, more people knew me from my blog than my published works.
While you’re at it, begin to use Twitter as a public figure. Yes, Twitter matters. Talk to people. Unlock your privacy settings. Put your real name, position, and blog on your bio. If you’re used to being semi-anonymous on Twitter, it may take some of the fun out of it, but it’s also a powerful tool in making publishing connections. I have a wonderful friend who randomly Twittered his book idea, and a publisher contacted him. I have been contacted three times by publishers who are interested in my work because of Twitter.
3) Get published. Once you have your blog up and running, look for other places you can be published. We all think we know more than Elizabeth Gilbert, and we want to be the ones with the New York Times bestseller and big movie deal, but we may not be able to get a contract with Penguin right away. But there are places you can get published. There is a ladder. It’s not that hard to climb, but you may have to start on the bottom rung. Look at your denomination’s weekly newsletters. Are there respected religious blogs that you can write for? Often if a publication is not paying its writers and/or it has to publish often, then they’re always looking for good stories or book reviews.
Publishing (like so many things) is in a strange transition at the moment. Most publishers are having a hard time figuring out their strategies during this Internet age. This makes them very wary to publish authors who don’t sell, but it may also be helping them take a chance on newcomers. At least that’s how it seems. I don’t know… what’s your sense of this?
4) Don’t back-stab (i.e., I just changed “we all know more than Elizabeth Gilbert” to “we all think we know more than Elizabeth Gilbert”). And certainly don’t backstab in public. I said to be aware of your petty jealousies, but don’t blog about how much you hate another author. (Just to be clear: I love you, Elizabeth Gilbert). You might only have six people reading your blog, but one of them is the person who set up the blog alert to find out the feedback on his book. The religious writing world is very, very tiny. If you want to write, then you may have to be careful with your snarky comments. Of course, you can write something like this sweet homage.
Don’t write a nasty review of an author’s book on Shefari, and then turn around and ask her for a contribution to your blog. She read your review. And she might be your editor one day. Even if she’s not your editor, she may be making editorial decisions about you. (Publishers–large and small–contact me regularly to ask me what I think about certain authors or book ideas. And I’m just a small fish. I know I’ve advised against authors who have been rude to me. Not out of pettiness or vengeance, but the experience left a bad taste in my mouth when it came to their work.) You may criticize in broad terms, you might have a constructive dialogue, but don’t throw your hope-to-be colleagues under the bus. It might give you a short-term audience, but it makes you untrustworthy and it might destroy you in the long run.
5) Help and ask for help. You have a great amount of power in this new era of publishing. You can write a good Amazon review. You can Twitter when you’re enjoying a book. If you want to be a published author, help to promote the authors you enjoy. Some authors might ignore it when you do (authors often ignore me), but the smart ones will pay attention. I have scored big interviews for God Complex, because I’ve helped the author promote his or her book. I’ve made great friends this way too.
When you’ve been working hard on proposal, ask for help. And women, I’m talking to you. For some reason, it seems that men contact me for help often, and women rarely do. I mean, really close friends will send off a proposal without asking for my help. What can a seasoned author do for you? He can look at the query and proposal and tell you where your mistakes are. Often, he can make a contact with the publishers and put in a good word for you. Of course, you need to build a relationship with the author before he or she will do this. And some authors don’t have the time. There have been situations when I can’t get back to someone with advice, because I’m swamped. If I’m one of fifty people copied on an email, I’ll ignore the request. I can give advice as one person, but I don’t have time to be part of a survey. If you don’t hear back from an author, don’t take it as a failure, it’s just the nature of writing. The workload is often feast or famine, and when it’s feasting time, then the writer has to concentrate hard on prioritizing. He may not get back to you, but that’s probably not because your work sucks. It’s probably just because the writer has put it on the back-burner and forgotten. Or they don’t have the time to help new authors.
And… that’s my advice for publishing, but I’ve gone on too long and haven’t gotten to speaking. I’ll tell you about that tomorrow. So, what would you add?
There are many questions to be asked about SB 1070, Arizona’s controversial new immigration law: questions of constitutionality, of enforcement, of specific provisions, of racial bias. These issues are certainly important and require much thought and discussion. But for the follower of Jesus they must take backseat to a much more important question: how does SB 1070 impact the “least of these”?
Matthew 25 contains some of Jesus’ most famous stories. Jesus speaks in the parable both to the righteous and the wicked, and to the latter he says, “For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me. … Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” This passage has long stood as a perennial call to Christians to stand with the oppressed, with the “least of these,” with those at the bottom of society, those most marginalized by “the system.” I believe that it is this passage which must frame Christian discussion of Arizona’s immigration law.
I submit that Christians must regard undocumented immigrants as “the least of these” in the context of the American immigration debate. Every year, millions of people around the world struggle to make enough money to live, to feed their children, to be able to go through their day-to-day lives with some semblance of security. Many of these people find that they are unable to find work in their own country, and so they seek to emigrate and establish a new life somewhere else to provide for themselves and their families. Pushed out by broken systems and broken circumstances, marginalized by greedy economic structures and ineffective governments, many look towards the United States and its relatively strong economy as offering hope for the future of themselves and their children.
Unfortunately for most of these people, it is incredibly difficult to immigrate legally to the United States. The process is time-consuming, costly, and uncertain, and can thus leave a potential immigrant who is denied a visa worse off at the end of the attempt than at its beginning. Daunted by the difficulty of this long-term process, with fears compounded in many cases by immediate economic uncertainties, many people are put into a situation where they see no other option to provide for their themselves and their families than to enter the country illegally. With no realistic alternatives, they live at the margins of American society.
These undocumented immigrants, truly the “least of these,” are the targets of Arizona’s new law. SB 1070 is manifestly designed to further marginalize these people and those who help them, to make it easier to arrest and prosecute them, to interrupt their day-to-day lives as they work (often in below-minimum-wage-jobs) to set food on the table every night. Rather than try to fix the broken systems that put these people in the situations they are in, Arizona has decided to punish them and ostracize them. Arizona has cracked down on the victims of America’s broken immigration system rather than try to address the underlying problems with the system itself.
I believe that a straightforward application of the message of Jesus Christ condemns Arizona’s immigration law. The Kingdom of Heaven is a kingdom of grace not legalism, of inclusion not exclusion, of welcome not hostility. The Gospel of Jesus of Nazareth is a proclamation of justice in the face of oppression, of liberation from bondage, of love for the marginalized. With this in mind, I ask Christians across America to remember that as they do to the least of these, so do they do to Jesus himself.
[This post was originally published at YourPerspective.org]
Greetings from the amazing Grünewald Guild, where I’ve been having a wondrous week serving as the keynote speaker and pastor-in-residence for the Guild’s first Liturgical Arts Week. Located in the Cascade Mountains of Washington state, the Guild is one of my favorite places in all the world. With its commitment to exploring and celebrating the connections between art and faith, the Guild always draws a splendid community of folks in whose creative presence I find sustenance that feeds me throughout the year.
I’ll linger here for another week, during which I’ll spend most of my time going through the proofs for my new book. The writing process is usually a very solitary endeavor, and I’m looking forward to getting to continue to soak up the Guild community while finishing my work on the book.
The book, which is titled In the Sanctuary of Women: A Companion for Reflection & Prayer, is something of a sequel to my first book, Sacred Journeys, in that it draws from the often hidden wellsprings of women’s experiences and history in the Judeo-Christian tradition. It will be published by Upper Room Books in October, and I was delighted to learn today that the book is now available for pre-order on Amazon.com. You can find it here: In the Sanctuary of Women.
Night has fallen at the Guild, and so I’ll offer you a nighttime blessing that comes from the new book. Each chapter opens with blessings for morning and evening, and this one appears in the chapter titled “A Way in the Wilderness: The Book of the Desert Mothers.”
God of the daylight,
you come also in darkness,
and even in shadows you make a home.
Be rest to the weary
and solace to the brokenhearted;
be healing to the sick,
and to the troubled, be peace.
Be our comfort, our dreaming,
our sleep, our delight;
breathe through these hours,
O great God of night.
Wishing you peace on this and every day.
Maybe you've heard of cafeteria Catholics. Maybe you are one. Well in this post, Halden Doerge has a cautionary word for cafeteria Mennonites:
The Anabaptist tradition is not, first of all, about “nonviolence” but rather about the nature of discipleship, the church, the world and the meaning of Christ’s Lordship. You can’t divorce Anabaptist’s theology of peace from their commitment to things like believer’s baptism, voluntary church membership, congregationalism, the rejection of clericalism, and yes, opposition to certain understandings of sacramentalism. To do so is to fail to take the tradition with any real seriousness. The same is true for Anabaptists and Mennonites who quickly latch on to quasi-Catholic enthusiasm about sacramental theology. (Indeed, most of what I’m saying here applies, vice-versa, to free churchers who think they can appropriate whatever elements of Catholicism they find compelling, a similarly-common tendency.)
I came to a related conclusion a month ago when I taught a little course on the Didache for a dozen or so teens on campus for Project Burning Bush. I really wonder how compatible infant baptism is with the kind of high-commitment Christianity (non-violence, resistance to capitalism, church discipline as mutual accountability) that so many communitarians want.
I had the kids describe their last baptism they'd seen in their local church to each other, and then to the group as a whole. I asked, "How is baptism as it's practiced in your congregation similar to and different from what we read in the Didache?" Everyone zeroed in on the necessity for fasting prior to baptism as a big difference. After we talked a bit about the meaning of fasting as a spiritual discipline, I asked, "Why the requirement to fast prior to baptism?" One person answered, "Perhaps to make sure they really meant it when they said they wanted to join the Church."
So fasting was for potential Christians what organic chemistry is to potential doctors, a weed-out course! But they weeded out with Christian education too. The directions for baptism begin with, "After explaining all things..." referring to the lengthy ethical instructions that form the first part of the Didache. Cribbing from Matthew and/or Q, the author stresses non-violence and love of enemies.
No food and no retaliation. Can you handle that? If so, we'll baptize you.
What comes afterward is, well, keeping on keeping on. There's the Eucharist too, which, far from being an unbloody repetition of Christ's sacrifice on the cross, is a potluck in which the community gives thanks that they are the redeemed. No ordination. A lower case catholicity through accountability to outside oversight, but equal stress on not getting taken for a ride by so-called outside experts. It's not overreaching to say that the Didache is the primitive Christianity the Anabaptists were trying to reclaim.
The kids were cool to chapters one through six, which surprised me because the type of kids that would be attracted to PBB would tend to be earnest, and earnestness and morality go hand-in-hand. In fact, the kids found it judgmental. "Well, do you think that the Church ought to be for or against adultery?" I asked. "Against it," they replied, "but not for judging people who happen to sin. We should forgive."
I pointed out that in our congregations, the relationship between sacraments and Christian education is exactly backwards from the Didache's, which may account for their dis-ease. We'll baptize anybody, infants, toddlers, adults with precious little understanding of Christianity, and then we educate them, and hope they grow into it. "The Church of the Didache is a finishing school for saints," I suggested, "but you belong to churches that see themselves as hospitals for sinners. Which is the better model?"
I had them vote. All but one voted for the Hospital for Sinners model, mainly based on a concern for hospitality and need not to judge others. Which is not surprising because it's what they know. The lone hold out, argued, "Look, it makes no sense to have people in Church on Sunday, and then out on the corner selling drugs come Monday."
"What about that?" I asked. "The problem with our ecclesiology is that we really aren't a hospital for sinners; we're a hospice for sinners. No one gets better in our church. You can't tell us from non-Christians. That's why we get called out for hypocrisy so much." But they stood their ground, and I have to admit that their zeal for hospitality that animated their comments was quite compelling.
An MDiv student and PBB staffer wondered if there might be some middle ground. I suppose the catechumenate might be one way to go. There were lifelong catechumens in the fourth century, that century in which the Church pivoted from finishing school to hospital. Many worshiped and believed but weren't baptized because both they and the Church agreed that their secular work (soldiers, judges, senators, etc.) was incompatible with the Christian life.
But that tiered system of membership also had its problems. For one, belief wasn't enough to save, they thought. Baptism was necessary. A catechumen who slipped on the ice and broke his neck on the way home from church was thought to be just as lost as the most unrepentant pagan. And aren't catechumens just people who lack the courage of their convictions?
Maintaining a high bar for entry at the front end doesn't necessarily mean elitism and judgmentalism. In one of Hauerwas's little books he compares the Church to the Marine Corps. I'm sure Marines think rather highly of themselves, but they also think highly of the country they kill and die for. What about a Church of the few and the proud who genuinely love the world that God so loved?
It does seem doubtful that one can get to such a Church by taking on all-comers. On the other hand, I was baptized at six weeks old into a mainline Protestant denomination, and wound up hearing a call to non-violence anyway. In fact, I know more pacifists and aspiring pacifists than I know Mennonites.
Shall we not suffer the little children to come unto Christ? For me, deep down, baptism is first and foremost about belonging. If belonging to the Church is solely a matter of volition, then not only can't children be baptized, but neither can the severely mentally retarded. Ever. We tell our kids, "You aren't ready yet" all the time, and were we all to become Anabaptists, we'd have to screw up our courage to tell grownups that too, but doesn't believers baptism mean that there are some who will never, ever be ready? And they're the least of these. I imagine my own son would be one of those. He's not mentally retarded, but he's curved in on himself enough due to his autism that it's doubtful that he'll ever be able to obey the Golden Rule except in fits and starts because he mentally incapable of closing the I/Thou circuit.
So I hesitate.
During our reading time today T and I were working through the story of David and Goliath. In the picture David is holding a slingshot and standing in front of a very large and angry giant. T turn to me and says, “David hit giant?”
The best I could come up with is, “Yes, David killed Goliath. But there’s no hitting after the Jesus part in the Bible.”
Oh my. What did Conrad Grebel tell his two year old?
This quote belongs to Kate Soper who, during an interview in which her ideas on Alternative Hedonism were discussed, examined the curious phenomion of people flocking to large scale work-out facilites and paying exorbatant fees to run on treadmills when they are perfectly able to get the same work-out running to the gym whilst paying nothing.
Her arguments and observations about the damaging effects of a consumeristic way of life and the comodification of the world are immensly interesting and decidedly well formed and persuasive.
Here is the Philosophy Bites interview with her and here is one of her papers on Alternative hedonism.
Drawing by Joe Kievitt / untitled / ink on paper / 6.75″ x 6.75″ / 2010