Deconstruction and Lent

There's deconstruction going on at school. The old school of theology building is being torn down and an addition to the new one will be added.  I get to watch this all happen between classes.  Workers pound to get the old window frames out, others take tiles off the roof.  Everything that once made the building is being stripped away.  It is becoming a husk, a shell of what it used to be.  Soon it will disappear and something new will take its place.
As I watch this slow, steady process, I can't help but think about how appropriate this is for lent. Lent is about going inward and contemplating where you really are in life.  As you go inward, you start first with your complete self, the building before demolition.  It looks nice, but there's usually something lurking under the surface that needs to get fixed.  So you go in deeper, you explore every nook and cranny, you decompartamentalize yourself, deconstructing the bits that just won't do. You tear away the old windows, you get down to the bare husk of yourself.  Of course, in the case of the building, the whole thing will be torn down.  Lent isn't about getting demolished, it's more about renovation, but the construction sight still provides good imagery.
Of course, this is a difficult process and can't really be fully accomplished in 40 days, but we work on little bits every spring.  For example, this lenten season I'm looking into the parts of me that are judgmental, I'm examining why I feel threatened or insulted by certain ideas.  It could be that they are legitimately wrong and harmful, but mostly it's because I have different view points and simply can't understand where others are coming from.  I'm deconstructing the part of myself that holds strong beliefs, I'm looking at it, putting the majority of the bits back in their place, but modifying others as I find necessary. This is not done on my own of course, I have to delve into conversation with the divine.  For without the divine, how can I know what to keep and what to modify?  So I pray, and slowly I find the places that need some help.  Together, God and I are doing something. And if I walk away from lent this season with no significant differences in my views, at least I looked at them.
I ask that you take some time to think about deconstruction, to ponder what it means to your own lenten journey.  Where does it push you? What do you need to deconstruct in your life? Just ponder and reflect. Then turn to God and just simply be with God. Read the word, pray, do what you love to do with the divine.  See where you are called to go, what you are to do.  Take out the pieces of your life that hurt and examine them together.  If it hurts too hard, find resources to help you.  But I encourage you to reflect.
God's Peace be with you.

Biblical Prophets

We've been reading the books of the prophets in class, and it's a puzzling collection of oracles, both of condemnation and hope.
Often the condemnation is for the same problems.
The people have turned away and worshipped other gods.  That's the part that we seem to like to emphasize, and it's an important part of the prophecies found in scripture. Sometimes we even use that bit to get introspective and ask ourselves what gods we are following that are leading us away from the one true God.  That is important, but we can't stay there.
 The people have not cared for the widow, the orphan, the oppressed.  This gets emphasized in our churches a little less, mainly because it makes us feel like we aren't doing enough.  I can't tell you how often I've heard these prophetic words and felt condemned.  No, I haven't cared for all these people like I should. I haven't stepped it up and gone the extra mile. I'm sorry, but I just can't give to everybody. I don't have the money to give to multiple charities, and I don't have the time or choose not to use a lot of my time to help everybody else out.  I feel like I'm almost a failure as a person of faith.
Of course we could help this situation by realizing that this is the condemnation of a nation as a whole, not every single citizen.  Yes, we as citizens of the family of God are called to help out, but we as individuals don't have to take it all on. We are called to specific areas of concern that take on special meaning to us. As a collective, we can cover all the bases.
I think what we fail to truly emphasize within the prophetic works is the mixture of condemnation and hope.  We either take the hopeful words or the condemning words and separate them from the words that surround them.  But even within the chapters of condemnation, there are glimmers of hope.  There is an oscillation between the two, a balance that is often lost within the church setting.  We never seem to mix them  But what if we did? People are condemned because of their actions, yet God still cares, still loves the people.  God mourns when the people turn astray and God awaits the day when people turn back.  It's hard to think of God's condemning of the people, it seems harsh and inconsiderate, leading many in popular piety to think of that punishment as coming from the God of the Old Testament.  But even when the people are being cast into exile, God still speaks of hope, of a future.  There will be a time when the mourning will be no more.  This is not a spiteful God.  It's not a warm, cuddly, lovable Jesus, but it's not a demon either.  There's a balance.
And maybe when we take the prophecies as a balance between condemnation and hope, we can see the balance that was present within Jesus' ministry.  Maybe we'll have a more balanced Christ.  After all, if we believe God spoke through the prophets, then Jesus, being fully human and fully divine, should have a similar voice, right?

If you look like a monk...

Last week I was hanging out with my friend, Br. K. I told him that I'd like to read the books on the postulancy reading list for his monastic order over the summer, and he asked me again if I was interested in joining the order. I told him I didn't think I was called to monk-hood, and he said something that stuck with me, "You know, if you look like a monk, and act like a monk, you might just be a monk."
Now I'm not making any plans to become a monk, but it's made me wonder what is it that makes someone a monk?  What is it that defines the monastic life? The priesthood and other religious leadership roles seem so clearly defined, but monastics aren't.  They aren't marked by vows of celibacy, because some monks aren't celibate.  They aren't marked by communal living, because some don't live in community.  What is it that marks these lives?
It seems to me that what ultimately marks a monastic life is a commitment to living in right relationship with God, a devotion to a simple lifestyle without a materialistic focus, a lot of prayer, a lot of sharing life together in an honest way, and a shared calling to a collective mission.  Maybe that is too simple of a definition of a monastic life. I don't know. But if that is the definition of a monastic life then Br. K was right.  I might just be a monk.
 Am I going to join an order? I would never say never, but not in the foreseeable future.  I currently do not feel called to take on the robes and the label, but I do enjoy sharing life with others and strive to commit more of my life to prayer.  I think I'll just live as someone who is monastically inclined.

My Epiphany Resolution

I made an Epiphany resolution this year, something I hope will bring me closer to my fellow sojourners and closer to Christ.  My resolution? Learn to forgive and seek to understand the conservatives of this nation. I'm talking the Republican Party.  I grew up liberal, and I mostly agree with the politics of the Democrats. However, I have begun to pay attention to how this two party idealism affects our relationships with our fellow Americans.  That deep divide between parties that we see in DC didn't just appear out of nowhere, it's in our communities, our friendships, and our families. It affects how we communicate with others, and not just our political discussions. For example: on Election Day, two friends played a trick on a mutual friend.  While watching the election results, they pretended that one of them was a Republican, and their mutual friend is a strong Democrat.  The mutual friend almost had issues sitting in the same room as a "Republican" and even almost left to go into another room to watch the results. She was quite relieved when she learned he was also a Democrat. While this was a joke, think about how often this is the case with people of differing political parties.  We have problems interacting with one another because of politics.  I've begun to pay attention to these patterns within myself and I am just as bad as anybody else.  I'll drive through an area with conservative signs and begin to judge the people in that area. They obviously have "bad politics". I refuse to listen to what the Republicans in the House and  Senate are saying because they are "just defending their party line". I've begun to realize how unChrist-like these behaviors are. Every time I turn on my blinders and refuse to pay attention to someone, I'm devaluing them. They aren't as important as other people, they are Republican and therefore not as good as the Democrats.  Now I'm not saying that I have to agree with their politics, I just want to become able to listen to them without getting mad at them.  I want to learn to recognize that politicians are politicians, and there isn't something that makes a Democrat politician any better or nobler than a Republican politician.  This is hard, and even as I type this I want to cite examples of unjust things Republicans have said. I want to point out the flaws in some of these politicians' characters to make the whole party seem worse, but that's not Christ-like either, and that continues to devalue and divide.
 Ultimately, politics are not about which party is better or worse.  This isn't some great battle between Democrats and Republicans, a showdown to see who will win out in the end.  It has become that way in the media, and all that warring has led to a divided nation. Politics are about trying to figure out ways to keep a nation going as best as possible while respecting the civil liberties given to each citizen.  Right now, this party war is stalling that.  So if I can learn to forgive and gain an understanding of conservatives, not only can I break a cycle of devaluing others which is unChrist-like and destructive, maybe I can help bridge the political divide between others.  And if just a few of us begin to refuse to play in this party war and instead insist on working together, maybe we can build a better country.  That's my hope and my Epiphany Resolution.  

My response to tragedy

I pray that the God who breathed the breath of life into humanity, who listens to eir children, who even sent a messiah into this world to proclaim eir love, who came back after being murdered and said, "Tend my sheep" (love my people),  can be felt in the world today.  There is so much tragedy, so much heartache, and I just pray that people are able to sense God's love despite the tragedy of human sin.  I fully believe that God weeps with us, and laments with us.  I believe God holds all those who can barely breathe because of grief in eir loving hands.  I believe that God does not cause tragedy, unfortunately humans have the power to do great evil, but God will always be there for the wounded after tragedy strikes. 
I cannot say what should or should not be done after tragedy, but I do hope that people can find God despite the carnage and the wreckage. If they need to, I pray that people are able to take their anger and deepest grief to God.  If they need to scream and yell at God, I pray that they are allowed to do so.  I believe that God can take their words and I know God will still hold them when the anger leads to sobbing. From the depths of despair, the depths of Sheol, we can always cry to God.  
I pray that we are able to give our responses to tragedy over to God, and somehow God can redeem acts of despicable human violence.  That is what I pray for our world today. 

My Christian Education Rant

I was talking with a friend about issues within the church universal.  The subject quickly turned to the devaluation of young people in the church. Now I'm not talking about the need to have young adult representatives or youth representatives involved in church functions.  I've been there and done that, and most of the time I had to wonder, "Am I here because of my age or am I here because I can really help you out?" and the answer was usually that I was young. (Side note: Have you ever noticed that the younger you are at a church meeting, the more attention you get? It's usually not the kind of attention where people are honestly taking in your ideas, critiquing and incorporating them if they benefit the church, it's usually the "oh my gosh, someone under 40's actually here" kind of attention) I'm talking about the refusal of the church to do real Biblical studies with their young members.  Of course, the church has a hard time doing real Biblical studies with their adults, but that's why I think it's especially important to do them with the youngest among us.  Somehow we think that youth want to watch DVDs where random people talk to them about "issues" and maybe give them a piece of scripture to tie everything together.  Youth group often devolves into "Let's play games and do a morality lesson so we can be better people".  That's not going to grow our church or create authentic disciples.  Give the kids scripture, give them the conflicts of the texts. I think youth Sunday School should look a lot more like my Old Testament class and a lot less like goof off hour.  It should be engaging, they should be diving in, learning about conflicts in the texts, looking at extra-Biblical sources and trying to figure out what this God they worship actually looks like.  Of course that involves training teachers, so there'd have to be a commitment of the adults involved in our youth programs to study and struggle themselves, but there's no reason why they couldn't do that right along with the kids.  It would have to involve someone actually putting out a decent Bible study program or the priest/pastor getting involved and using the Biblical knowledge they accrued in seminary, but I think it could be beautiful.  Imagine if what was taught in the seminary classroom was commonly taught in our churches, in our Sunday School classrooms, to our teenagers and young adults.  What if people knew what modern Biblical studies scholarship actually said about the Bible?  What if it was actually relevant to how the church operated?
Now, I say this, but I'm not a youth person.  I don't know much about working with youth or anything like that.  Also, I don't think I'd necessarily be the most effective at implimenting a change in our Christian Educational system. All I know is that if we want to have effective and relevant disciples of Christ, we need to teach people about the God they follow and the Bible they read.  We might as well start with the young ones, because if they don't find relevance in the church in their younger years, they probably won't be around when they're older.

Becoming Episcopalian

I am officially becoming part of the Episcopal communion on Sunday and I assume that many people are curious about this new development in my life.  Why on earth am I leaving the United Methodist Church and becoming Episcopalian?  Am I really making the right decision? First I'd like to say, I've asked myself those questions over and over again.  They make me stop and ponder what it is that God is doing in my life right now.
I guess I always assumed I'd be United Methodist forever.  I was a third generation United Methodist, it connected me to my grandparents on both sides, and I was proud of that fact.  I was an active church member, I was an intern at my church, I served my Annual Conference, I was a leader.  Why would I leave something I knew so well and had a passion for?
I can say this: I'm not leaving because I have a major problem with the church.  There were no fights, no heated discussions that turned me away.  I am not leaving out of anger or malice.  I'm leaving partially because I think the denominational structure is too big. I love the congregation I was a part of and the Annual Conference I was a part of, but I disagree with having large overarching structure that puts out a Book of Discipline and tries to run an effective and efficient church in that manner.  I think that the system has become cumbersome and has held back church progress.  That's not to say that I don't believe that churches should be structured and organized, I am after all joining a church with bishops and a loose national structure, I just think the global structure of the United Methodist Church is too rigid.  It doesn't allow for regional differences in belief systems within the global church.  Who is to say that rules about how to structure your church that comes from white middle class Americans really works for the African church? As I looked more into the structure and system of the national and global United Methodist Church, I began to seriously question whether following one Book of Discipline was really something that was best for the church.  I began to also seriously doubt if I could connect myself with the Book of Discipline in my own personal ministry life.  There were some rules that I simply did not feel comfortable with, and I am not going to go against rules and regulations set out by my church.  I am not a rebel, I cannot knowingly break rules.  It makes me uncomfortable and makes me feel guilty. And I kept thinking questions like, "What if one day my friends want me to officiate their wedding and I have to say no because they are a same sex couple?" It would break my heart and I questioned whether I could stand in a United Methodist pulpit after something like that happened.
All that being said, those are the reasons why I began to question the United Methodist Church.  They are not the reason why I'm becoming Episcopalian.  That was a much more natural thing, something that began the first week of seminary and has progressed since then.  It all began the first week of orientation with a friendship. Since I have not asked his permission to mention him on my blog, I shall call him "D".  D is an Episcopal Studies student and we became close friends fast.  One Sunday he took me to his favorite Episcopal Church in town, and I was struck by the liturgy and the emphasis on Eucharist.  I enjoyed the service.  So when D asked me if I wanted to go to the Evensong service at school, of course I said yes.  Things progressed and soon I was hanging out with Episcopal students and Br. K, the abbot of an order of monks in town invited me over to the monk house.  As soon as I started doing complines with the monks, I was sold.  I loved how everything was so scripturally based and so meaningful.   I of course resisted the idea of becoming Episcopal every step of the way.  I was United Methodist, it was part of my heritage.  But the more I was at Episcopal services and doing the daily offices, the more I needed it.  The liturgy and eucharist soothes my  soul. The use of scripture in almost every aspect of the service is enriching and enlivens me. I walk away nourished.  When I talked to one of the Episcopal bishops, I learned about a church that isn't as structured denominationally and has a lot of leeway and freedom within each diocese to do as they see proper within their context. This both terrifies me and excites me. So I'm joining the Episcopal Studies program at school and I'm joining the Episcopal church.  It's honestly one of the scariest decisions I've ever made, but I am so happy with it.  I can't wait to be a priest, to preside over the table, to lead people in morning prayer.  I am free to be me, and I am in a church structure that supports me.  That's why I'm becoming Episcopalian.