You may have been reading the latest about Rob Bell's new book "Love Wins," which questions the idea of a literal hell. That said, you can only imagine the onslaught of finger pointing and name calling that has taken place on the internet, in the name of God. A friend of mine lost his position of pastor over changes in his theology. And, I believe this sort of thing has only just begun. This is not a new discussion, but we now have the internet where a person's face or story can circle the globe in minutes. There has never been a time where we can become so divided, so quickly. I also think that this gives us a great opportunity. We could behave in a life-giving manner, and love one another within the discussion. Within the discussion. We have a choice in this discussion. What kind of people do we want to be?
In work as a chaplain, I am often in the midst of death. Families choose how they want to be in the midst of dying. When loss happens, there are many underlying emotions of which we are often unaware. On the surface can be sadness, but underneath can be strong emotions such as; guilt, helplessness, or isolation. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. in her book, On Death and Dying, describes 5 stages of grief that people often experience: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. People experiencing loss of any sort can experience these stages - and they do not necessarily come in order as Kubler-Ross initially thought.
Watching the fire storm surrounding Bell's book, I considered the varied reaction as descriptive of the stages of grief. I have noticed, when confronted with doctrines that oppose the ones in which we believe, we often can be seen living out of one of these stages of grief. Sometimes we get angry. We see this in many of the posts that rail against the book - sometimes before it is even read by the blogger. Some people get into bargaining - trying to make the new doctrine a little easier to swallow, perhaps trying to mold it into an existing doctrine we have believed for years. For some, depression sets in and the conversation becomes overwhelming because the risk seems so very high. Finally, there is acceptance, either of staying with the doctrine of our past, or changing to a new belief. On the surface of the argument, we can see anger or defensiveness, but underneath can be strong emotions such as inadequacy, hurt or insignificant. Working through this can be some of the hardest work in our lives, and with it carries a risk of losing one's tribe, one's community. Perhaps this is the greatest fear of all.
So, how do we want to be in this discussion? Each of us is at a different place in regards to our theology. In this instance, we may believe in a literal hell, or not. For me, the question of what we believe is less important than how will we choose to be with each other within this discussion. Will we choose to see others (those who oppose the doctrines of our youth or those who do not accept our new theological place) as fellow travelers? Will we choose compassion or defensiveness? Curiousity or anger? Some are scared that something sacred is being compromised. Others may be excited because they are in a new place. Many may be too overwhelmed to even talk about it. None of these people are any less our brothers and sisters. None of these are any less people of God. It seems as if we must consider how we choose to be within the discussion, and choose to communicate in a life giving way, that love might really win.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
“Be still and know I am,” and btw, get the cow off the lake.
A few weeks ago there was a news story reporting a calf stuck on a frozen lake. There was no snow on the ice, which made the situation quite slippery. The calf being young and not having the strength needed kept slipping, leaving him floundering in the middle of the lake. The ice is not deep enough to walk on, so the rescuers had to come up with a plan that would save the calf, and yet not endanger their own lives. They lowered a helicopter near the calf, and gently blew the calf along the ice to a place where it could find firm ground and it’s own legs. Nearing shore it fell through the ice, but was able to find firm ground, regain it’s footing and move itself into the safety of the land.
Sometimes I feel like the calf, floundering around, attempting to gain my footing in a situation where I feel quite weak or unprepared. Stuck in a place or situation that I wasn’t expecting to be in. It can be a place of feeling completely overwhelmed. Bills due, the uncertainty of illness, unemployment, life’s pressures…
The anxiety could come from a multitude of things that reminds me of what it might feel like to be the calf on the ice. Experiencing a feeling of out of control, like I am spinning my wheels, going no where. What I usually do not notice in myself is an innate, natural ability to be calm, sit down and wait. I do not often remain present to the day, instead I often panic and struggle to find something to do to make the situation better – or at least make myself feel better in the midst of the situation.
Instead of panic, what would it be like to wait? To sit on the cold, hard place, a bit like the lake ice, and wait. The calf had no choice, struggle as it may, it could so no where. When we are in a time that feels uncertain, that feels chaotic, how might we wait for the gentle breeze (or strong wind) to blow? Scripture calls this the breath of life. The New Testament calls it the Spirit of God. How is the breath of the divine moving you?
Ralph Waldo Emerson speaks of “lowly listening.” Listening to the still, small voice within us – the one that knows which way to go. The small voice can be persistent, thankfully. I often find my self caught up in what distracts me, busyness, life, etc. If I can stop and listen, I can hear the low voice of my own voice, and of the divine. This voice does not seem to shout, but rather speak quietly, so it is needful to take time to stop and listen to it. The Christian psalms remind us to “be still and know that I am.”
It seems as if a key might be “be still.” In the being still – which is not part of our busy culture we can experience the breeze in our lives. Remaining busy we can be distracted by life’s pressures. However, if we stop and are attentive to what we experience, we can feel the breeze – we can “know” by experience that “I am.”
Here is what author C.S. Lewis says, “ That’s why the real problem of the Christian life comes when people don’t usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning is just shoving them back; just listening to what other voice taking that other point of view, letting that other; stronger quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. But from these moments the new sort of life will be spreading through out system.”
Author John Ackerman suggests this exercise:
Stop – Relax, Breathe
Look – Open Your Mind
Are there blessings? Is there pain? What is God doing?
Listen – Open Your Heart
What is God saying? Will you receive grace?
Go – Open Your Will
Let go, let love come. How will you live?
The saving grace of the calf, was not the rescuers, at least not directly. It was the wind from the helicopter. It was a “new sort of life” that the rescuers heard by listening to this voice. While many people took part in the rescue, but it was the wind that blew the calf to safety. Listening brought life to the situation. It was the choice of the rescuers to step back and allow the wind to do what wind does that allowed the calf to arrive at a safe place.
Stop, look, listen and go. Some days it may feel as if the divine is right there with us – as a tangible force. Other days it may take time more attention, more intentionality, more time being quiet…sometimes it is sitting down, waiting, being quiet and letting the breeze blow us to the shore.
Sometimes I feel like the calf, floundering around, attempting to gain my footing in a situation where I feel quite weak or unprepared. Stuck in a place or situation that I wasn’t expecting to be in. It can be a place of feeling completely overwhelmed. Bills due, the uncertainty of illness, unemployment, life’s pressures…
The anxiety could come from a multitude of things that reminds me of what it might feel like to be the calf on the ice. Experiencing a feeling of out of control, like I am spinning my wheels, going no where. What I usually do not notice in myself is an innate, natural ability to be calm, sit down and wait. I do not often remain present to the day, instead I often panic and struggle to find something to do to make the situation better – or at least make myself feel better in the midst of the situation.
Instead of panic, what would it be like to wait? To sit on the cold, hard place, a bit like the lake ice, and wait. The calf had no choice, struggle as it may, it could so no where. When we are in a time that feels uncertain, that feels chaotic, how might we wait for the gentle breeze (or strong wind) to blow? Scripture calls this the breath of life. The New Testament calls it the Spirit of God. How is the breath of the divine moving you?
Ralph Waldo Emerson speaks of “lowly listening.” Listening to the still, small voice within us – the one that knows which way to go. The small voice can be persistent, thankfully. I often find my self caught up in what distracts me, busyness, life, etc. If I can stop and listen, I can hear the low voice of my own voice, and of the divine. This voice does not seem to shout, but rather speak quietly, so it is needful to take time to stop and listen to it. The Christian psalms remind us to “be still and know that I am.”
It seems as if a key might be “be still.” In the being still – which is not part of our busy culture we can experience the breeze in our lives. Remaining busy we can be distracted by life’s pressures. However, if we stop and are attentive to what we experience, we can feel the breeze – we can “know” by experience that “I am.”
Here is what author C.S. Lewis says, “ That’s why the real problem of the Christian life comes when people don’t usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning is just shoving them back; just listening to what other voice taking that other point of view, letting that other; stronger quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. But from these moments the new sort of life will be spreading through out system.”
Author John Ackerman suggests this exercise:
Stop – Relax, Breathe
Look – Open Your Mind
Are there blessings? Is there pain? What is God doing?
Listen – Open Your Heart
What is God saying? Will you receive grace?
Go – Open Your Will
Let go, let love come. How will you live?
The saving grace of the calf, was not the rescuers, at least not directly. It was the wind from the helicopter. It was a “new sort of life” that the rescuers heard by listening to this voice. While many people took part in the rescue, but it was the wind that blew the calf to safety. Listening brought life to the situation. It was the choice of the rescuers to step back and allow the wind to do what wind does that allowed the calf to arrive at a safe place.
Stop, look, listen and go. Some days it may feel as if the divine is right there with us – as a tangible force. Other days it may take time more attention, more intentionality, more time being quiet…sometimes it is sitting down, waiting, being quiet and letting the breeze blow us to the shore.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
The small lit candle of the posadas
When I was younger, I lived in Mexico for a while. The first Christmas away from home was difficult. I spent the week at friend’s home, north of Acapulco. Somehow heat and palm trees didn’t seem quite the same as being home for the holidays with snow and my family. Initially I felt sad. It didn’t feel right. I associated Christmas with the external surroundings of family, special foods, gifts, carols, adorned Christmas trees and snow. Few of those things were visible in the little town north of Acapulco.
Part of the Christmas celebration in Mexico includes a nine-day festival call Las Posadas. Posada means “the inn.” It is a visual reenactment of the story of Christmas.
“About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.” While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.”
Each night during the posadas, pilgrims representing Mary and Joseph pass from house to house requesting room. Other members of the company light the way, holding long, slender candles. They sing traditional songs as they arrive at each home. They are turned away until they arrive at the house that will hold the posada for the evening. The residents act as innkeepers, inviting all to come in to the celebration. This procession takes place every night through Christmas Eve. On this night the carols that request lodging change into a celebration as Mary and Joseph are given a place to stay. Pinatas explode with candy as las Posadas celebrate family, friends, and food, all centered in the story of Christmas.
It seems that there is a valuable concept that can be drawn throughout this holiday celebration. Christmas honors the birth of the Christ child and the restoration of humankind to one another and to the divine. He spent time with people who were lonely, wounded, and outcasts. In the birth narrative, we see pilgrims in need of a place that would welcome them. The story shows us both the amount of welcome that at times was not available – and then continues to show us what happened when welcome WAS available. On the part of the innkeepers, we see some able to welcome them, and some who were not able to do so.
Life brings us moments where we can be in need of welcome and embrace. Other times we are the ones who can offer the welcome embrace or hospitality to another. Here is a bit of a local story that shows us the power of embrace.
“By look at him and Mary Johns, his arm around her, you’d think they were mother and son. But actually, he’s the man who murdered her son. It happened in 1993. Israel shot Byrd multiple times, his body left outside North Memorial Hospital. Israel said, “When I took his life I just saw him. I didn’t see his mother.” Johnson lived with the pain and hatred for over a decade as Israel sat in prison in Stillwater…after 17.5 years in prison for Israel and just months after his release, they’re more than friends. Johnson said, “He’s like my son.”
While it seems incomprehensible, they’re now working together to promote healing between families of victims and perpetrators… This new bond, fostered by her forgiveness, has taught Israel to let go of some of his anger as well as pursue a life much more positive. Johnson and Israel hope to bring other families of violence together for forgiveness.” KARE-11
This Christmas season, on which side do you land? Are you one who can offer welcome, grace to another this week? Is there a family member or friend to whom you can offer hospitality this weekend? A co-worker to who you can offer unconditional care?
Or, this Christmas, are you at a place where you are on the receiving end of this sort of grace? Consider how you might lean into the care and attention of another person so that you may experience an element of healing.
I remember the welcome embrace of my first Posada. Laughter, hot cocoa, dancing, candy flying through the air from the ruptured pinata and conversation. A friend gave me a bracelet to commemorate the event. I felt as if, even though I was not at home, not among family, I WAS welcomed and brought in, as if I belonged.
We learn from the Posadas that by welcoming others, we are welcoming God into our midst. When we offer unconditional acceptance to another, and to our own self, we are offering grace. We experience the grace of acceptance that the Christ child brought to that stable. The appearance of this grace, as evidenced through the child brought shepherds from the hills and kings from the east. It draws us. It compels us. It embraces us. It welcomes us to a place of healing and shelter - posada.
Part of the Christmas celebration in Mexico includes a nine-day festival call Las Posadas. Posada means “the inn.” It is a visual reenactment of the story of Christmas.
“About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David's town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.” While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.”
Each night during the posadas, pilgrims representing Mary and Joseph pass from house to house requesting room. Other members of the company light the way, holding long, slender candles. They sing traditional songs as they arrive at each home. They are turned away until they arrive at the house that will hold the posada for the evening. The residents act as innkeepers, inviting all to come in to the celebration. This procession takes place every night through Christmas Eve. On this night the carols that request lodging change into a celebration as Mary and Joseph are given a place to stay. Pinatas explode with candy as las Posadas celebrate family, friends, and food, all centered in the story of Christmas.
It seems that there is a valuable concept that can be drawn throughout this holiday celebration. Christmas honors the birth of the Christ child and the restoration of humankind to one another and to the divine. He spent time with people who were lonely, wounded, and outcasts. In the birth narrative, we see pilgrims in need of a place that would welcome them. The story shows us both the amount of welcome that at times was not available – and then continues to show us what happened when welcome WAS available. On the part of the innkeepers, we see some able to welcome them, and some who were not able to do so.
Life brings us moments where we can be in need of welcome and embrace. Other times we are the ones who can offer the welcome embrace or hospitality to another. Here is a bit of a local story that shows us the power of embrace.
“By look at him and Mary Johns, his arm around her, you’d think they were mother and son. But actually, he’s the man who murdered her son. It happened in 1993. Israel shot Byrd multiple times, his body left outside North Memorial Hospital. Israel said, “When I took his life I just saw him. I didn’t see his mother.” Johnson lived with the pain and hatred for over a decade as Israel sat in prison in Stillwater…after 17.5 years in prison for Israel and just months after his release, they’re more than friends. Johnson said, “He’s like my son.”
While it seems incomprehensible, they’re now working together to promote healing between families of victims and perpetrators… This new bond, fostered by her forgiveness, has taught Israel to let go of some of his anger as well as pursue a life much more positive. Johnson and Israel hope to bring other families of violence together for forgiveness.” KARE-11
This Christmas season, on which side do you land? Are you one who can offer welcome, grace to another this week? Is there a family member or friend to whom you can offer hospitality this weekend? A co-worker to who you can offer unconditional care?
Or, this Christmas, are you at a place where you are on the receiving end of this sort of grace? Consider how you might lean into the care and attention of another person so that you may experience an element of healing.
I remember the welcome embrace of my first Posada. Laughter, hot cocoa, dancing, candy flying through the air from the ruptured pinata and conversation. A friend gave me a bracelet to commemorate the event. I felt as if, even though I was not at home, not among family, I WAS welcomed and brought in, as if I belonged.
We learn from the Posadas that by welcoming others, we are welcoming God into our midst. When we offer unconditional acceptance to another, and to our own self, we are offering grace. We experience the grace of acceptance that the Christ child brought to that stable. The appearance of this grace, as evidenced through the child brought shepherds from the hills and kings from the east. It draws us. It compels us. It embraces us. It welcomes us to a place of healing and shelter - posada.
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