I've been listening to Christmas music, and I've got a CD by Barbara Mandrell that I enjoy ("Christmas At Our House", 1984). There's one song that really caught my attention this year. It's called "Born To Die" written by Shireen Salyer. The point of the song is that Jesus was sent to earth to die for us, and in his birth, we can already see his death. God's heart must have broken because He knew His son was to die. Mary's grief was overwhelming because she knew that her baby son would die. The tune is haunting; the lyrics, poignant; Ms. Mandrell's voice, a blessing.
"Born to die" is a common theme in the Christian world. In one of my readings, an author pointed out that the Nicene Creed says of Jesus: "...he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilot; he suffered death and was buried." No hint of the marvelous, loving and revolutionary things that Jesus did while he was alive. Birth, death--and resurrection--are the most notable points in this person's existence.
I was struck hard by the whole idea this week because my father-in-law is very ill right now and words like "palliative care" and "hospice" are creeping into conversations with his care team. I thought about my father-in-law's life--a force in the house, working several jobs to provide for his family, telling stories about growing up in Philadelphia, mentoring young electricians--and my gut rejected the "born-to-die" description. Dad was born to live.
It's a matter of perspective, isn't it? We're all born to die, if we take the traditional Christian approach. And if we move through life with that perspective, we may live life with anxious urgency or we may brush along life's surface, attention focused on the dying part.
On the other hand, we can face our existence as if we're born to live. Then what we do with our lives matters. The decisions we make that affect ourselves and others matter. Working for the Beloved Community matters. Embracing life's complexity matters.
During the Christmas season, let's remember that Jesus was born to live, to teach us, to guide us, to show us how to see the Divine every day. Let's remember that we were born to live. To immerse ourselves in life with all its joys and sorrows. To give to ourselves and others in balanced measure. To let God shine out into the world through us.
Let us be Christians who are born to live. May it be so. Amen.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Friday, December 17, 2010
Reflection for Christmas
Become perfect as the spirit of your Heavenly Father and the body of your Earthly Mother are perfect. And so love your Heavenly Father, as he loves your spirit. And so love your Earthly Mother, as she loves your body. And so love your true brothers, as your Heavenly Father and your Earthly Mother love them. And then your Heavenly Father shall give you his holy spirit, and your Earthly Mother shall give you her holy body and then shall the Sons of Men like true brothers give love to one another; and then shall all become comforters one of another. And then shall disappear from the earth all evil and all sorrow, and there shall be love and joy upon earth. And then shall the earth be like the heavens, and the kingdom of God shall come. For love is eternal. Love is stronger than death.-The Essene Gospel of Peace, 1937 (1981), Edmond Bordeaux Szekely
It is the season to remember that one of the ways in which God becomes visible to us is through love. Love is a verb; we act for God, moving through the world. It is through us that God becomes visible.
This is the miracle of the incarnation.
May you bring the Spark of the Divine into the world this day and every day.
Merry Christmas!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
"Almost Heaven..."
For Thanksgiving this year, we drove to visit family in Pennsylvania. The trip takes us through the center of West Virginia, and as we drove through the "Wild and Wonderful" state, I could heard the John Denver song* loud and clear.
Another way to describe the land we crossed is "God's Country". People use this phrase for unspoiled land, a landscape untouched by humans, or one that reflects the power of God the Creator. More and more, I get the feeling that God's Country may be land that humans feel is too inhospitable for feasible economic development.
In the US, there's very little of God's Country left that doesn't have some imprint of a human hand on it. West Virginia is a state with a smaller population than its neighbors, and scenery that looks like some monster bear drew its claws through the land to create the layers of rolled hills, their outline softened by the brushy tops of leafless trees. Even here, there is the human touch. Light, perhaps, but there, nonetheless. The highway itself with its green direction signs and blue services signs cuts through with arrogant certainty. The large electric wire structures. Bare ski trails like tears on the mountainside. Cell phone tower spikes. Railroad tracks running along the bank of a creek. Billboard ads stuck on steep inclines blanketed with trees. Makes you wonder how the workers get to them. Water towers that look like one-half of a dumbbell stuck into the ground.
Driving in West Virginia is not for the faint of heart. Sitting as the state does in the Appalachian chain, there are l-o-n-g, s-l-o-w climbs up and down and long, winding curves. Guard rails are either an immovable mountain of rock or a thin ribbon of steel over which you can see nothing but the tops of trees and air. At 70 mph, the interstate demands your full driving attention.
We passed clusters of houses tucked into a holler that later became the route for the highway, miles from any sign of business, post office or general store. We saw black-faced sheep, small herds of black cattle, ponies, the occassional llama. A different lifestyle from what I'm used to. More isolated, more dependent on the land, neighbors, God.
Your description of God's Country may take a different form--rocky beaches, or vast plains or crystal blue lakes, towering mountains or endless desert--but having been born and raised in Western Pennsylvania, the "dark and dusty" vistas of West Virginia speak to me not with a joyous shout, but with a deep whisper of divine presence and praise; a low rumble of agelessness that doesn't have a source, but emanates from the Earth Mother. The ancient power here is not splashy, but simmers in the forested hills.
Where do you find God's Country?
Take moment to give thanks for the land and waters we share with all life. And pray that we take good care of it.
*"Take Me Home, Country Roads". Bill Danoff, Taffy Nivert and John Denver. Cherry Lane Music, 1971.
Another way to describe the land we crossed is "God's Country". People use this phrase for unspoiled land, a landscape untouched by humans, or one that reflects the power of God the Creator. More and more, I get the feeling that God's Country may be land that humans feel is too inhospitable for feasible economic development.
In the US, there's very little of God's Country left that doesn't have some imprint of a human hand on it. West Virginia is a state with a smaller population than its neighbors, and scenery that looks like some monster bear drew its claws through the land to create the layers of rolled hills, their outline softened by the brushy tops of leafless trees. Even here, there is the human touch. Light, perhaps, but there, nonetheless. The highway itself with its green direction signs and blue services signs cuts through with arrogant certainty. The large electric wire structures. Bare ski trails like tears on the mountainside. Cell phone tower spikes. Railroad tracks running along the bank of a creek. Billboard ads stuck on steep inclines blanketed with trees. Makes you wonder how the workers get to them. Water towers that look like one-half of a dumbbell stuck into the ground.
Driving in West Virginia is not for the faint of heart. Sitting as the state does in the Appalachian chain, there are l-o-n-g, s-l-o-w climbs up and down and long, winding curves. Guard rails are either an immovable mountain of rock or a thin ribbon of steel over which you can see nothing but the tops of trees and air. At 70 mph, the interstate demands your full driving attention.
We passed clusters of houses tucked into a holler that later became the route for the highway, miles from any sign of business, post office or general store. We saw black-faced sheep, small herds of black cattle, ponies, the occassional llama. A different lifestyle from what I'm used to. More isolated, more dependent on the land, neighbors, God.
Your description of God's Country may take a different form--rocky beaches, or vast plains or crystal blue lakes, towering mountains or endless desert--but having been born and raised in Western Pennsylvania, the "dark and dusty" vistas of West Virginia speak to me not with a joyous shout, but with a deep whisper of divine presence and praise; a low rumble of agelessness that doesn't have a source, but emanates from the Earth Mother. The ancient power here is not splashy, but simmers in the forested hills.
Where do you find God's Country?
Take moment to give thanks for the land and waters we share with all life. And pray that we take good care of it.
*"Take Me Home, Country Roads". Bill Danoff, Taffy Nivert and John Denver. Cherry Lane Music, 1971.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Experience Vs. Belief
It's been a month since I've last shared with you. Since early October, I've attended the UUCF Revival in Dallas, visited a local United Church of Christ congregation, met with my church needlecraft ministry, spent an afternoon tending to a friend after her first colonoscopy, biked on a new walking/biking trail near my home and felt hot Summer turn to crisp Fall.
Experiences of God. Encounters with the Transcendent.
In their book "The Knitting Way: A Guide to Spiritual Self-Discovery", Linda Skolnik and Janice McDaniels write:
This is the essence of Unitarian Universalist spirituality, and it resonates deep within me.
The authors go on to share ideas surfaced at a 1995 National Institutes of Health meeting which focused on spirituality and religiousness as factors that affect an individual's health (pgs. 50-51). The first statement of the meeting included the clarification: "Spirtuality is concerned with the Transcendent, addressing ultimate questions about life's meaning, with the assumption that there is more to life than what we see or fully understand."
At the end of this chapter (pgs.51-52), the authors present a scientific research scale that can capture the depth of a person's daily connection with the Transcendent and possibly relate the results to health or treatment outcomes. The scale is called the Daily Spiritual Experience Scale (DSES). Because the scale is copyrighted, I will not copy its 16 items here, but point you to an original paper and encourage you to look it up in "The Knitting Way" to get a feel for how it might be helpful in personal spiritual practice.
How deep are your experiences, how often do you encounter the Transcendent?
Experiences of God. Encounters with the Transcendent.
In their book "The Knitting Way: A Guide to Spiritual Self-Discovery", Linda Skolnik and Janice McDaniels write:
You don't have to believe in the Transcendent to encounter it. Ideas and beliefs don't bring understanding. Honoring and participating in the craft of life does. (pg. 51)
This is the essence of Unitarian Universalist spirituality, and it resonates deep within me.
The authors go on to share ideas surfaced at a 1995 National Institutes of Health meeting which focused on spirituality and religiousness as factors that affect an individual's health (pgs. 50-51). The first statement of the meeting included the clarification: "Spirtuality is concerned with the Transcendent, addressing ultimate questions about life's meaning, with the assumption that there is more to life than what we see or fully understand."
At the end of this chapter (pgs.51-52), the authors present a scientific research scale that can capture the depth of a person's daily connection with the Transcendent and possibly relate the results to health or treatment outcomes. The scale is called the Daily Spiritual Experience Scale (DSES). Because the scale is copyrighted, I will not copy its 16 items here, but point you to an original paper and encourage you to look it up in "The Knitting Way" to get a feel for how it might be helpful in personal spiritual practice.
How deep are your experiences, how often do you encounter the Transcendent?
Friday, October 8, 2010
Why We Suffer
Yes, this would be the universal question. I've kicked it around myself and had come to the conclusion that there is suffering in the world because either humans create the suffering (either for themselves or for others); or because the natural system of God's creation does (hurricanes, disease, tornadoes, earthquakes, etc.). My own suffering has provided opportunities for my growth or someone else's and for pure wallowing in the experience of pain and loss. I haven't delved much deeper than that.
I have been on a reading journey with Bart Ehrman, a professor of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina, just minutes from where I live. His books reflect and reveal his own spiritual journey in which he becomes an Evangelical Christian, but as he studies and prays and discerns, he gradually becomes an agnostic. What intrigued me as I read his work was that all of his Biblical studies which point up textual inconsistencies, changes, mistranslations and other content issues did not sway his basic faith in God. However, studying the issue of why there is suffering in the world did.
I headed straight to Dr. Ehrman's 2008 book, God's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer. Dr. Ehrman's purpose is to show us how different Biblical authors approached and answered this basic question.
So I bring you the Bible's first answer as presented by Dr. Ehrman: the prophets of the Old Testament explain that suffering is a punishment for sin.
What do you think about that statement? True or false? Or true sometimes?
I have been on a reading journey with Bart Ehrman, a professor of Religious Studies at the University of North Carolina, just minutes from where I live. His books reflect and reveal his own spiritual journey in which he becomes an Evangelical Christian, but as he studies and prays and discerns, he gradually becomes an agnostic. What intrigued me as I read his work was that all of his Biblical studies which point up textual inconsistencies, changes, mistranslations and other content issues did not sway his basic faith in God. However, studying the issue of why there is suffering in the world did.
I headed straight to Dr. Ehrman's 2008 book, God's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer. Dr. Ehrman's purpose is to show us how different Biblical authors approached and answered this basic question.
So I bring you the Bible's first answer as presented by Dr. Ehrman: the prophets of the Old Testament explain that suffering is a punishment for sin.
What do you think about that statement? True or false? Or true sometimes?
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