In my vocational spiritual direction, one of the assignments was to come up with a life sentence.
In any previous season of life, this would not have been difficult. I've been writing mission statements for myself ever since I was a kid.
But in this particular time, I have felt unmoored from many of the anchors to which I was tethered. I have felt attacked and beaten down by society and ideology and much of what prevails in theology.
Three weeks after the session in which I was to discuss my ideas, I have begun to dream again, and to think more purposefully about my passions.
I am (and have for a long time been)
drawn to engaging deeply with individuals (seeking answers, help, and healing)
who have been hurt (emotionally, spiritually, mentally, or physically)
by church (aspects of Evangelical and Fundamentalist culture that detract from the Gospel preached and lived by Jesus)
and the Christian religion (theology that quenches or obstructs the ongoing revelation of God's Spirit)
This includes individuals who have been shunned by church communities, who have been abused by those in spiritual authority, whose doctrinal beliefs have prevented them from achieving their full potential as people, and even those who had positions of leadership and lost their integrity or faith by having undue expectations put upon them.
I seek to do this through intentional relationships that include:
-verbal sessions of conversation and prayer
-organic and fun gatherings of misfits and the "motley crew"
-writings that engage larger ideas and issues and reach wider audiences
Jesus came to heal and to set the captives free. As the body of Christ, we are to partner with God's Spirit to share this Gospel with the world, starting in Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Building God's House of Worship
I have been reading in Exodus about the instructions for building the Tabernacle. Each household was to contribute what they felt stirred to in their hearts, and what they contributed--fine linen, gold, etc.--would be used in the building of God's house of worship.
This relates to my previous post about worship being a participatory act. It is not about showing up to sing along to a contemporary band and then listening to a pastor (usually a man, and therefore not at all representative of half-or-more of the congregation) who (often) likes to listen to the sound of their own voice and ideas.
Yes, there are appointed leaders who are responsible for guiding God's people. Moses was invited into private audience with God and to receive the 10 Commandments. In fact, he reflected God's glory to such a dazzling extent that he had to wear a veil over his face when he returned to the camp where the rest of the Israelites were. Clearly, there is a dimension of his spiritual experience that cannot be fully shared with the "rest of them"--the congregation.
But God still wants God's people to participate in worship, and to bring the best of what they have. Isn't that always what the invitation has been?
This relates to my previous post about worship being a participatory act. It is not about showing up to sing along to a contemporary band and then listening to a pastor (usually a man, and therefore not at all representative of half-or-more of the congregation) who (often) likes to listen to the sound of their own voice and ideas.
Yes, there are appointed leaders who are responsible for guiding God's people. Moses was invited into private audience with God and to receive the 10 Commandments. In fact, he reflected God's glory to such a dazzling extent that he had to wear a veil over his face when he returned to the camp where the rest of the Israelites were. Clearly, there is a dimension of his spiritual experience that cannot be fully shared with the "rest of them"--the congregation.
But God still wants God's people to participate in worship, and to bring the best of what they have. Isn't that always what the invitation has been?
The Work of the People
Liturgy.
It's a word I didn't hear much about until Divinity School, when I rubbed shoulders with the more "high church" traditions. In the Evangelical world, church was called "worship"--and anything other than rock-band-style music followed by a lecture-like talk was scoffed at as being "ritual." As if ritual is a bad thing.
Liturgy has been defined many ways, but the one I remember most is: the work of the people.
This means that we participate in worship. It is reflected in services where there are times people stand up to read, sit down to listen, stand up to play, and have a call-and-response interaction with the person delivering the "sermon."
Sermons in high church settings are much more compact--14 minutes versus 40 minutes. One gets the feeling that the sermon is not the main part of the service--whereas in Evangelical settings, one can stroll into "worship" late, as long as you don't miss the sermon. But in a one-hour, high-church liturgical service, I want to be on time, because I have a part to play, and the whole thing is one experience that I don't want to miss.
Liturgy is a beautiful thing. It is the work of the people in response to God's work, and I want to participate with my body, soul, and heart.
Amen.
It's a word I didn't hear much about until Divinity School, when I rubbed shoulders with the more "high church" traditions. In the Evangelical world, church was called "worship"--and anything other than rock-band-style music followed by a lecture-like talk was scoffed at as being "ritual." As if ritual is a bad thing.
Liturgy has been defined many ways, but the one I remember most is: the work of the people.
This means that we participate in worship. It is reflected in services where there are times people stand up to read, sit down to listen, stand up to play, and have a call-and-response interaction with the person delivering the "sermon."
Sermons in high church settings are much more compact--14 minutes versus 40 minutes. One gets the feeling that the sermon is not the main part of the service--whereas in Evangelical settings, one can stroll into "worship" late, as long as you don't miss the sermon. But in a one-hour, high-church liturgical service, I want to be on time, because I have a part to play, and the whole thing is one experience that I don't want to miss.
Liturgy is a beautiful thing. It is the work of the people in response to God's work, and I want to participate with my body, soul, and heart.
Amen.
Saturday, February 10, 2018
When "Do Your Job" Isn't Enough
So I'm still glowing a bit from the Patriots' defeat against the Eagles.
The Patriots have a motto: "Do your job." They are not wrong in this. Doing what's required of you and what you've been trained for is important. It accounts for all of their previous Superbowl titles.
Tom Brady has a very disciplined lifestyle and diet, and that's why he's still playing football at 40.
The Eagles, on the other hand, are a bit of a wreck. They went through a lot to get to being champions this year. They were open about it. And they celebrated shamelessly.
My co-workers read about all the riotous celebrations in Philly--the greasing of poles, the overturning of cars--and said, like typical New England snobs: "We don't do that here."
It's true--we don't. Here, we do our jobs. We do not make promises that we do not keep, and we do not flake out on commitments we have made. I moved up here for a job, and here, we get it done.
But sometimes in life, "Do your job" simply isn't enough. Sometimes, it's about the messiness of passion, and the rollercoaster of emotions and creativity that help us defeat the winning team--the status quo, if you will. The Eagles played their hearts out, and their fans erupted uncontrollably. Isn't it important, sometimes, to let go of control?
I struggle sometimes between being disciplined and orderly and being passionate and spontaneous. This is what I conclude today: do your job, to the best of your ability. And when it's not enough to do your job, let destiny and the Divine help you get to places beyond your wildest dreams. It happens, and it's the best feeling in the world!
The Patriots have a motto: "Do your job." They are not wrong in this. Doing what's required of you and what you've been trained for is important. It accounts for all of their previous Superbowl titles.
Tom Brady has a very disciplined lifestyle and diet, and that's why he's still playing football at 40.
The Eagles, on the other hand, are a bit of a wreck. They went through a lot to get to being champions this year. They were open about it. And they celebrated shamelessly.
My co-workers read about all the riotous celebrations in Philly--the greasing of poles, the overturning of cars--and said, like typical New England snobs: "We don't do that here."
It's true--we don't. Here, we do our jobs. We do not make promises that we do not keep, and we do not flake out on commitments we have made. I moved up here for a job, and here, we get it done.
But sometimes in life, "Do your job" simply isn't enough. Sometimes, it's about the messiness of passion, and the rollercoaster of emotions and creativity that help us defeat the winning team--the status quo, if you will. The Eagles played their hearts out, and their fans erupted uncontrollably. Isn't it important, sometimes, to let go of control?
I struggle sometimes between being disciplined and orderly and being passionate and spontaneous. This is what I conclude today: do your job, to the best of your ability. And when it's not enough to do your job, let destiny and the Divine help you get to places beyond your wildest dreams. It happens, and it's the best feeling in the world!
Sunday, February 4, 2018
Chemistry
I am realizing that I have really good chemistry with my girlfriends who are bisexual.
There is something incredibly open and intuitive about women who understand attraction on many levels and with many people. Perhaps this fits with my polyamorous bent--it means that we are compatible as friends in our sexual orientations. By this, I do not mean simply gay or straight, but I mean an awareness of and comfortability in our sexual capacity.
By sexual capacity, I do not necessarily mean sexual behavior. I am referring to a spiritual sense of being that extends to our understanding of our own sexuality and that of others. It is, simply put, an embrace of others that happens on a human and emotional level. It means a comfortability in our embodied presence--and this translates to very warm displays of physical affection that do not at all have to be sexual.
Visiting New Haven this weekend reminded me of all the beautiful souls that I mingled with in Divinity School. People in the "real world" are more stiff and reserved. I often feel a sense of tension when operating in that mode. I yearn for a deeper connection that is fluid and transcends discrete interactions. YDS was a place that embraced "all the feels." I miss it.
I spent the day with a dear friend who was also visiting New Haven. We have not seen each other since May of 2016, but we melted into a warm embrace as soon as I walked in the door of Atticus, a bookstore Cafe downtown. People stopped their conversations to look at us with curious but approving eyes, but we continued our long hug. That is the power of an embodied emotional connection.
We caught up over breakfast, holding hands at times and gazing into each other's eyes. For those living in a binary mentality of platonic versus romantic, our behavior might be confusing. But love is love is love is love--and that means that when you love someone, you enjoy them are the beautiful soul that they are, and they are not the object of selfish desire or careful distance. You simply enjoy being together--on emotional, spiritual, and physical levels.
We went hiking up East Rock after breakfast, talking the whole way and sharing about things both painful and delightful. We sat on a bench by Mill River and prayed. I felt the Spirit move several times during the course of our time together--I get chills whenever God feels near. We had lunch at a friend's house, and then I took her to the train station. We parted ways not knowing when we'd see each other next--but confident in the power of staying in touch.
She went 2 hours south to New York city, and I drove the opposite direction, back to Boston.
I had a memorable day, and it tops even the best romantic date I've been on.
There is something incredibly open and intuitive about women who understand attraction on many levels and with many people. Perhaps this fits with my polyamorous bent--it means that we are compatible as friends in our sexual orientations. By this, I do not mean simply gay or straight, but I mean an awareness of and comfortability in our sexual capacity.
By sexual capacity, I do not necessarily mean sexual behavior. I am referring to a spiritual sense of being that extends to our understanding of our own sexuality and that of others. It is, simply put, an embrace of others that happens on a human and emotional level. It means a comfortability in our embodied presence--and this translates to very warm displays of physical affection that do not at all have to be sexual.
Visiting New Haven this weekend reminded me of all the beautiful souls that I mingled with in Divinity School. People in the "real world" are more stiff and reserved. I often feel a sense of tension when operating in that mode. I yearn for a deeper connection that is fluid and transcends discrete interactions. YDS was a place that embraced "all the feels." I miss it.
I spent the day with a dear friend who was also visiting New Haven. We have not seen each other since May of 2016, but we melted into a warm embrace as soon as I walked in the door of Atticus, a bookstore Cafe downtown. People stopped their conversations to look at us with curious but approving eyes, but we continued our long hug. That is the power of an embodied emotional connection.
We caught up over breakfast, holding hands at times and gazing into each other's eyes. For those living in a binary mentality of platonic versus romantic, our behavior might be confusing. But love is love is love is love--and that means that when you love someone, you enjoy them are the beautiful soul that they are, and they are not the object of selfish desire or careful distance. You simply enjoy being together--on emotional, spiritual, and physical levels.
We went hiking up East Rock after breakfast, talking the whole way and sharing about things both painful and delightful. We sat on a bench by Mill River and prayed. I felt the Spirit move several times during the course of our time together--I get chills whenever God feels near. We had lunch at a friend's house, and then I took her to the train station. We parted ways not knowing when we'd see each other next--but confident in the power of staying in touch.
She went 2 hours south to New York city, and I drove the opposite direction, back to Boston.
I had a memorable day, and it tops even the best romantic date I've been on.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Mission Accomplished...
Today, I visited my 12th church in Boston in 18 months. I think I may have found the One for me.
I found street parking on the side of the church and walked in a side door, which led to the left side of the Nave, the North Transept, where I sat.
United Parish Brookline is an ecumenical congregation, affiliated with the American Baptist Churches, the United Methodist Church, and the United Church of Christ. It is open and affirming and uses gender-neutral language for God. The welcome was given by both pastors--a male and a female. These factors alone were enough to make me feel quite at home.
The music was excellent--all acoustic, with technically trained vocalists in the choir. The congregation engaged and friendly. They had children hand out flowers to newcomers. Children sat with their parents during the entire service--another thing I liked. The congregation was diverse--in my pew, I was sandwiched between white and black women.
I love liturgical services. They help me to experience God in congregation in an embodied--rather than a passive, consumeristic--way. I went to Yale Divinity School because I was tired of Evangelical church culture. And now I think I'm ready to identify with Mainline Protestantism not just in spirit--but also in the flesh.
I found street parking on the side of the church and walked in a side door, which led to the left side of the Nave, the North Transept, where I sat.
United Parish Brookline is an ecumenical congregation, affiliated with the American Baptist Churches, the United Methodist Church, and the United Church of Christ. It is open and affirming and uses gender-neutral language for God. The welcome was given by both pastors--a male and a female. These factors alone were enough to make me feel quite at home.
The music was excellent--all acoustic, with technically trained vocalists in the choir. The congregation engaged and friendly. They had children hand out flowers to newcomers. Children sat with their parents during the entire service--another thing I liked. The congregation was diverse--in my pew, I was sandwiched between white and black women.
I love liturgical services. They help me to experience God in congregation in an embodied--rather than a passive, consumeristic--way. I went to Yale Divinity School because I was tired of Evangelical church culture. And now I think I'm ready to identify with Mainline Protestantism not just in spirit--but also in the flesh.
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Super Bowl Sunday
The smallest things can be the biggest indicators.
When I learned that the New England Patriots were going to the Super Bowl, I was not surprised and not interested.
But as soon as a friend told me that the Philadelphia Eagles was the other team, I got excited and decided to root for them.
It's no secret that I have not been happy in Boston--it's not you, baby, it's me--but the instinct (it wasn't even a decision) to root for the other team got me thinking about my relationships with other cities, and how it has worked out between me and others.
Philly is sentimental and sensitive--at least, according to this link that a friend sent me today--and thus much more suited to my INFP than stoic and traditional Boston. I did have an affection for the City of Brotherly Love. It just sort of exists, with its old buildings silently looking on as new issues unfold, and you can visit and enjoy it without being asked anything in return.
It's much quieter and sparser than New York, where bustling energy borders on chaos but is contained within the grid of the streets. New York welcomes ambition and creativity in the way stretches on for miles and never goes to sleep--and in its soaring skyscrapers. The blue sky is the limit.
Boston, by contrast, is older and more conservative. Ironically, that also means that it has newer skyscrapers than New York--they waited a few decades to make sure the towers didn't collapse in other cities before attempting building their own. It also has circular roads and one-ways, making driving confusing and walking quite indirect. Perhaps its citizens make up for this by being forthcoming and honest.
If there's anything I've learned about Bostonians, it is that they are reliable and trustworthy. Not a bad thing when one lives and works here, I suppose. But not something that makes them fun and exciting to be around. They are also quite unable to understand when someone expresses a dislike for their city. They lack the self-awareness of New Yorkers who love to hate their concrete jungle, and they have so much unconditional pride in their sports teams that it goes without saying who you should root for.
Well, this is my way of not conforming to Boston culture in a tangible way. I'm rooting for the Eagles, and of continuing to maintain my individuality in a city that collects and then colonizes those within its reach.
When I learned that the New England Patriots were going to the Super Bowl, I was not surprised and not interested.
But as soon as a friend told me that the Philadelphia Eagles was the other team, I got excited and decided to root for them.
It's no secret that I have not been happy in Boston--it's not you, baby, it's me--but the instinct (it wasn't even a decision) to root for the other team got me thinking about my relationships with other cities, and how it has worked out between me and others.
Philly is sentimental and sensitive--at least, according to this link that a friend sent me today--and thus much more suited to my INFP than stoic and traditional Boston. I did have an affection for the City of Brotherly Love. It just sort of exists, with its old buildings silently looking on as new issues unfold, and you can visit and enjoy it without being asked anything in return.
It's much quieter and sparser than New York, where bustling energy borders on chaos but is contained within the grid of the streets. New York welcomes ambition and creativity in the way stretches on for miles and never goes to sleep--and in its soaring skyscrapers. The blue sky is the limit.
Boston, by contrast, is older and more conservative. Ironically, that also means that it has newer skyscrapers than New York--they waited a few decades to make sure the towers didn't collapse in other cities before attempting building their own. It also has circular roads and one-ways, making driving confusing and walking quite indirect. Perhaps its citizens make up for this by being forthcoming and honest.
If there's anything I've learned about Bostonians, it is that they are reliable and trustworthy. Not a bad thing when one lives and works here, I suppose. But not something that makes them fun and exciting to be around. They are also quite unable to understand when someone expresses a dislike for their city. They lack the self-awareness of New Yorkers who love to hate their concrete jungle, and they have so much unconditional pride in their sports teams that it goes without saying who you should root for.
Well, this is my way of not conforming to Boston culture in a tangible way. I'm rooting for the Eagles, and of continuing to maintain my individuality in a city that collects and then colonizes those within its reach.
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