Journey

This is about my spiritual journey and trying to find what God is calling me to next.

Beach Worship

My Beloved gently runs His fingers through my hair
in the breeze on the beach
as He calls me
constantly
in the rumble of the waves.

Overhead,
the birds fly
like seraphim
proclaiming His Love.

I look to the sea -
His love is even more vast
than the endless horizon.

Yet there is a pile of bottles and cans
that someone has left in the sand
that need to be cleaned up.

On the Road with Christian Wiman

I set my copy of “My Bright Abyss” by Christian Wiman down on the cluttered table in the camper. I looked out across the campground. The rain had passed, and hopefully the fog would lift soon. I’ve been reading this book, slowly, a few pages at a time, on and off since last May. How great it would be to write a book like this, or perhaps like The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton.

Friends have suggested that I write some sort of autobiography, growing up in a college town, heading off to college, studying philosophy, dropping out early, living in an old spice factory turned into artist loft in New York City, consulting at Bell Labs in the early 80s, spending eight months hitchhiking across America and Europe, living on a sailboat in the Hudson River, working on Wall Street, leaving it to work in social media, running for office. There’s plenty of material, but perhaps not the great writing style of Wiman or Merton, or the spiritual angst.

Maybe, instead of writing about myself, I could write about the people I met on my journeys, men in nursing homes earning to be free, victims of domestic violence, people who had lost loved ones way too early to cancer, men on the street that that have struggled with mental illness, substance abuse, joblessness. Yet would this reinforce a narrative about God working with those who have suffered greatly or struggled with God, but not with the common people?

The words of Ralph Waldo Emerson come to mind,

Meek young men grow up in libraries believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote these books.

What about those who, to borrow words of Henry David Thoreau, “lead lives of quiet desperation”. Where is God for them?

I’ve always loved those travel stories, perhaps best epitomized by the television show, “Then Came Bronson”, where a disillusioned newspaper reporter, heads out on his motorcycle to find himself, and finds himself helping meek young men leading lives of quiet desperation or captured by Charles Kuralt “On the Road”.

Can I play Bronson or Kuralt in telling stories of God’s grace in daily life? Can I bring in a touch of the depth of Wiman or Merton? Can I set it against the backdrop of Emerson or Thoreau?

What are the stories of God’s grace being revealed in the daily lives of people in main stream churches in America struggling to reveal God’s Love to a people that increasingly are losing interest?

(Categories: )

Prepare Ye...

It has been an interesting day. I started off with me watching some videos on Facebook of Presiding Bishop Elect Michael Curry preaching at a pilgrimage in honor of the Martyr Jon Daniels in Hayneville, Alabama. He spoke about Jesus not coming to start an institution, but to start a movement. I stopped to watch parts of Godspell on YouTube and then headed off to church, to a local nursing home, and then to a gathering of longtime friends from a church I attended years ago in New York City. It has been a good day, with lots to think about.

I also read a quote on Facebook, “Worship is no longer worship when it reflects the culture around us more than the Christ within us.” I suggested that the companion quote might be “Worship is no longer worship when it reflects the culture that was around our grandparents more than the Christ within us.”

There were many comments, often about organs, guitars, bee bop, rock concerts, choir concerts, and so on. Most of them seemed more concerned with the culture around us than Christ within us. How does this fit with Presiding Bishop Elect Curry’s comments about movements and institutions? How does this fit with Godspell?

I’m finding the clips from Godspell looking incredibly dated, but also incredibly joyful and powerful. What sort of movement are we looking for, what sort of joy? How do we understand experiencing the presence of God, in silence, in chaos, in organ music, choir music, rock music, or bee bop? Do we exclude people who experience God’s presence and overwhelming love in ways different from how we do? What do we do to change that?

Or, to quote Godspell, quoting Mark, quoting Isaiah, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord”.

(Categories: )

Learning from the Lectionary

Over the past few months, I’ve been spending a lot of time to get a better sense of what God wants of me. I’ve been reading various books, talking with various friends, and paying close attention to the Episcopal lectionary.

Wednesday was the feast day of Florence Nightingale, and I spent a little time reading about her and writing a blog post about it. Today is the feast day of Jonathan Myrick Daniels, who died fifty years ago during the civil rights movement. I read this biography and listened to some of this documentary.

What can I learn from Florence and Jonathan during my journey?

Some of this is to prepare for a meeting I currently have scheduled for September 10. So, I’ve looked at the lectionary for that day. It is the feast of Alexander Crummell, another person whom I don’t know much about, but who seems fascinating and perhaps another person I should seek to learn from.

(Categories: )

#AllLivesMatter #IsaacWasHere #SayHerName #BlackLivesMatter

On Facebook, I shared a link to an article about protestors claiming to represent the #BlackLivesMatters movement who disrupted an event where Bernie Sanders was scheduled to speak. I spoke about the article in terms of transformation:

As I read the article below, as well as comments from many friends, I remembered this:

"the biggest lie told by people like me to people like you at election time is that, 'If you vote for me, I'm going to solve all your problems.' The truth is, the power to change this country is in your hands, not mine." - Howard Dean, 2004

And so I ask, "Where is transformation taking place in the 2016 election?"

Currently, there are twenty-eight comments on the post, representing many different viewpoints, yet it feels like almost none of them are confronting the underlying question of personal transformation. What does it mean to say, “you have the power?” What is this power we have, and how should we use it? I am reminded of the cartoon where the politician ask, “Who wants change?” and everyone raises their hands. Then, he asks, “Who wants to change?” and no one raises their hands.

I’ve often heard preachers pray that their words might distress the comfortable and comfort the distressed, and I think this is an important part of the discussion. It feels like some Bernie supporters are comfortable talking about economic justice. Perhaps they come out of the #Occupy movement. They seem to believe that the economic populism of the Sanders campaign will bring not only economic justice, but racial justice. People standing up and saying, “No, that is not enough” is distressing, the sort of distress a preacher might hope to bring. Economic populism, especially economic populism that asks little of anything other than the 1%, is not enough. We must all work together, making sacrifices, that there might be real, economic, racial and social justice.

A common response to “#BlackLivesMatter” is “#AllLivesMatter”. I’ve often had discussions with people for whom #BlackLivesMatter is a very important hashtag. They see #AllLivesMatter as a cop-out, a means of avoiding, or even denying that for too many people in power in our country, black lives do not seem to matter. This has played out in the comments on my Facebook post, and I return to distressing the comfortable.

To those who are comfortable saying #BlackLivesMatter and uncomfortable with those who would water it down to #AllLivesMatter, please listen. Saying #BlackLivesMatter is very important. However, there are times when saying #AllLivesMatter may be what is needed. I have relatives who are white law enforcement officers, relatives that have jumped to the defense of officers involved in the killings of Michael Brown and Eric Garner. I have relatives posting racist comments about our President. I probably even have friends that agree with Donald Trump in his dismissal of political correctness. Most of these people are not able to hear the message that #BlackLivesMatter. Trying to get them to admit that #AllLivesMatter, and not just #OnlyMyLifeMatters is a major battle. From what I hear from Trump and his supporters, it seems like too many people in our country don’t even believe that #AllLivesMatter. To them, all that matters is themselves. We need to reach people where they are at.

Yet to those who really do believe that #AllLivesMatter, and cannot bring themselves to say #BlackLivesMatter, we must also distress them.

One person commented, “I am so absolutely sick of BLM. ALM!!!!!” I, too, am sick of having to say #BlackLivesMatter. I wish I didn’t have to confront people with the truth that for too many in our country, black lives do not seem to matter. That too many people in our country are unwilling to look at systemic racism, or at their own unconscious racist attitudes. We cannot simply switch to #AllLivesMatter to be more comfortable.

In that discussion, I responded, “Recently, three friends have lost their sons. As I grieve with them, I talk about how their sons’ lives mattered. I could say that all lives matter. It would be true. It would also be very disrespectful.”

#IsaacWasHere. One of those sons was Isaac. His mother has fought hard for social justice. She also fought hard to start a family. I imagine if I scrolled back far enough in her timeline on Facebook, I would find some very important posts about #BlackLivesMatter, but now, all I see is grief. I cannot being to say how wrong it would be to respond to #IsaacWasHere with #BlackLivesMatter. Both are true, but responding #BlackLivesMatter in this context would be so wrong. Responding #AllLivesMatter to those fighting for racial and social justice in the wake of Ferguson, Staten Island, Cleveland, Charleston, the list seems endless, is just as wrong.

#IsaacWasHere. I have said his name. I will also #SayHerName. More accurately, I will say the name of one of one victim of police brutality against women. Sandra Bland. Hers is not the only name. In a recent faith study group, one of the women, a woman of color, with a strong voice, a Sunday school teacher, spoke about her fears. She could easily see herself in Sandra Bland’s situation. Others said that things like that happen in the south, but not here in Connecticut. This led to a discussion of policing in East Haven. This is not just a problem that happens somewhere else. It happens in our own backyards. We were discussing the Psalms and what our responsibilities are in proclaiming The Word of The Lord. To me, I return to Psalm 19:14

May these words of my mouth and this meditation of my heart
be pleasing in your sight,
Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

To my friends of faith, I challenge you to pray this before each comment you make online. I find it a hard challenge to keep this in my mind as I read what others post online.

I am uncomfortable writing all of this. I hope others are uncomfortable reading this. If we want justice, if we want transformation, we need to get out of our comfort zones.

Buen Camino.

Syndicate content