Piedmont Preacher

Beyond the Dream

2012-01-17T15:40:00.000-08:00

1 Samuel 3:10

The LORD came and stood there, calling as at the other times, "Samuel! Samuel!" Then Samuel said, "Speak, for your servant is listening.

Go where you are afraid to go. In the middle of the night hearing your name called, walk forward and listen for dreams that startle. Ask the impossible and go to your fears.

Martin Luther King Jr. was the son of a Baptist preacher. All the way, his family had been not only religious, but religious leaders who responded to the call. He was not so eager to answer the call, having many questions about Christianity. At the age of 25 however he became the minister of Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama. He had answered one call, but there was a greater on just emerging in his life.

I imagine Dr. King had many sleepless nights knowing what would lay before him to pursue this dream. He would risk all those he loved. His home would be bombed. Those he loved would be beaten and some would die. It would cost him his life.

Dreams of a calling are hardly ever peaceful. They rouse us from the slumber of satisfaction in our own lives and call us to the borderlands. These dreams are not the inheritance of heroes and heroines, or singular figures, they are of people, everyday people, who suddenly see a new way forward in the darkness of the night. Dreams come to each of us, the extraordinary pastors in Montgomery, Alabama as well as to the people in the pews.

Imagine Samuel. Sound asleep then he hears his name called. He walks tipsy with slumber still releasing from his eyes. He thinks it must be Eli, his teacher. Three times he is called. Three times he is roused from bed, until at last his teacher tells him to wait, to listen for what dreams may come.

The dreams that come to Samuel are not peaceful. He is told of the destruction of his beloved teacher’s descendants and house. He learns that days are coming that are to be the end of Eli’s sons and his dynasty. An era has ended and Israel is being called back from injustice. Samuel wakes with a start. He is to be the new prophet. His first prophecy will be delivered to Eli.

We are told in rabbinical literature that Samuel is the last of the Hebrew Judges and the first of the Major Prophets. Samuel, not unlike King, found himself in the time between social movements, the most violent time of all and waves collide until a new day breaks and peace is restored. Samuel liked his world of quiet with his teacher Eli. He had no desire to be called forth from his home into the center of the world’s destruction. He had no desire and no need to rise and become a judge in Israel, a job that would make him the most-hated of citizens.

This is not an uncommon story. Martin Luther, for whom in part Martin Luther King Jr is named, was a monk that was all too happy being removed from the world’s impurities and disappointments . His simple cell and his prayers were far more than enough to sustain him. He listened though in his prayers and he knew in his heart he was called to reform this church that had fallen into corruption and was crumbling around him. In the words of the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Luther had to leave the cloister and go back to the world, not because the world in itself was good and holy, but because even the cloister was only a part of the world.”

We all live in cloisters don’t we? It’s a hell of a lot easier to stay where you are comfortable, even for ministers. The dream is not a pleasant experience but a startling call in the middle of night, when it may not at all be convenient, a call to rise. Have you not had that? Have you been listening?

It is all too often the place you fear most that your dreams will call you to. These civil rights movements, these figures of change are larger than life but in fact they were ordinary humans transformed by the extraordinary call. Martin Luther King’s life and those that walked beside him knew the dreams that startled in the night. The dream that children would not be judged by the color of their skin but the content of their character. They knew dreams meant sacrifice, meant pain, and meant loss before they would be seen in life. They knew they had to move beyond this fear, even beyond the dream.

Martin Luther King wrote that the great challenge in his movement was not those who hated him and opposed civil rights but the moderates and liberals who were too afraid to join him. “ The enemy is fear. We think it is hate; but, it is fear,” writes  Gandhi. Go where you are afraid to go. In the middle of the night hearing your name called, walk forward. Listen for dreams that startle. Ask the impossible. Go to your fears.

At last we are stirred by something in the night and thank God we are. You might ask what are my fears?

I am afraid to be the lesbian minister. I am afraid to speak up on behalf of the LBGT community because I am afraid that’s all people will see in me. I prefer to stay in my quiet comfortable world where I am accepted. I prefer to make people feel good. I fear being seen as only one kind of preacher, speaking up for my own rights.

But dreams are stirring. I would bet I am not the only awakened in the night. We are going to have to leave the sanctuary, the cloister, and go outside these walls.

It’s going to make us uncomfortable.

There is an amendment that is going to change our constitution to discriminate. Imagine not being able to visit the one you love in the hospital? Not being able to make decisions for their care? Imagine losing the rights to parent your children? Imagine not knowing what would happen to your healthcare or to your home if your partner dies? Imagine the fear.

It is not just this amendment defining marriage as between a man and a woman. It is not just this issue. It is every issue, every day when you have to live in fear. It is every face that longs to at last have a dream of a world where you would not be judged by who you love but by how you love. It is not just this amendment. It is the dreams that startle us of youth who are dying because of this fear that institutionalizes prejudice.

I’m tired of being afraid of speaking. I’m tired of my fears. I wonder if you are too.

So we might be vocal. So we will raise our rainbow flag. So some might even think we are the gay church. Well thank God. Let us also be the poor church. Let us also be the church of the pagans. Let us also be a church of the doubters. Let us also be a church of the faithful. Let us be a church of the immigrant, the stranger, and the outcast. This is what church does: we defend the very last outcasts and in so doing put ourselves in the borderlands. And thank God. This is the church that never crumbles. This is the call that never ends. And it’s not just ringing at my home.

“The call goes forth, and is at once followed by the response of obedience. The response of the disciples is an act of obedience, not a confession of faith in Jesus.” Writes Bonhoeffer. Think of it. The disciples did not create a five-point theology when they dropped their nets. Martin Luther King never wrote a creed for the civil rights movement and Martin Luther looked to the active reforms of the church not it’s doctrine. Samuel does not make a confession. He only responds with the simple obedience: "Speak, God for your servant is listening"

We are called: gay and straight, black and white, we are called poor and rich, humble and esteemed, we are called. Speak, speak, speak for we are listening.

Let the people say: Amen.

Occupy Humility

2011-12-06T12:33:00.001-08:00

Let's be real: the democracy we hope for in our American dreams is nowhere in sight. If you are thinking I am about to praise the values of liberals and deride the deterioration of liberalism in America, then you might be pretty disappointed. Yes, I am a Unitarian Universalist minister who serves a progressive faith. But these days, I am more likely to see myself as part of the problem, the propaganda, the person in need of preaching and occupying.

If prompted several months ago to explain democracy, I would have given an answer akin to "government by the people, for the people, of the people." In truth, I would have meant a government where I would be represented and get what I want — emphasis on what I want.

Technically, we live in a republic, not a democracy à la Athens. Our leaders are supposed to represent us in the public square for the public good. Over the last two decades, I have seen this representation increasingly be about entrenched ideologies and hyperbolic illustrations. And as I said, I see myself as part of that problem. I've spouted off in Facebook updates, tweets and even sermons. I've at times become a hyperbolic illustration.

But Occupy Wall Street has called me back to a simple truth. It has the power, if it can escape oversimplification, to remind us of a straightforward responsibility. We are all the people. We are, at least in part, responsible for the political situation we find ourselves in.

Sure, I am not one of the 1 percent, but in the global sense I am definitely privileged. Even in our country, I am fairly privileged. Aside from the economic disparity in our country, the Occupy movement is doing something far more powerful than just lambasting the 1 percent. I believe it is calling us back to the spiritual practice of democracy.

Yes, I said "spiritual." We live in a country that cherishes democracy. We go to war for it. We sing about it. We even depose dictators for eradicating it. Why, then, do only about 56 percent of us vote, even in a presidential election? I do vote, but honestly, I treat it like a chore, delaying it to the end of the day just to get my sticker to prove I've done my democratic check-up. I think we've lost the value of voting because people often don't trust each other anymore. Why trust the popular vote when you are at war with half the populace? Democracy is being neglected.

Democracy is the spiritual practice of living in human diversity while honoring human dignity. Put simply, democracy does not mean we get our way. It doesn't even mean we elect politicians who represent only our views. It doesn't mean we support the practice of bargaining down and watering down legislation until it says nothing so as to offend no one and do nothing. Democracy is the hard, desperately exhausting and nearly impossible process of surrendering oneself to the greater good and in so doing placing trust in the people, by the people, of the people, for the people. A democracy requires humility, listening and an invitation to the creative spirit that calls us to a greater truth when we gather not as enemies, but as co-creators.

So long as the Occupy movement can continue to insist that the 99 percent begin to represent themselves and engage in the hard work of democracy, we will be moving toward surer footing. The danger is in only critiquing the politicians, the wealthy and the powerful. The work begins with each of us. After all, 99 percent is a pretty big voting block.

True democracy — a governing of the people — is about the creative forces between, within and among us. Democracies cannot be about compromise that brings us to the lowest common denominator — that is de-evolution. True democracy evolves the human spirit through cooperation and creation. We trust what will come from our common good. We trust each other. We don't represent people. We are the people.

Hook, Line, & Sink

2011-08-08T14:04:00.000-07:00

So here's the hook. You can read viewer counts on blogs. And with twitter you have "followers." Even Facebook has an application to see how many people are viewing your profile. Eek! Do they love me????

It appears high school has hit the social media. And by that I mean, the unfortunate competition to make sure you have enough "likes," that is people who like you or your status updates. Have we really come to the point that we are measuring the number of times someone is interested in us to demonstrate worth? Apparently even Newt Gingrich tried to use his 1.3 million followers on twitter, which is well above any other GOP candidate, in order to demonstrate his viability as a candidate (see politico article). But then we found out there's a way to buy followers.

So social media gurus, I implore you to continue to use the networks for your message and for connections, but not popularity which is hardly ever measured by how many--or how few-- people will enjoy watching or reading you. Think America's Funniest Home Video. I am pretty sure we didn't watch videos of parents surprised by their children or poor souls falling off porches because they were popular or particularly likable but because.... well it was entertaining.

And for the rest of us blogging and slugging through Facebook as regular users, maybe social media connections are not exactly the connections they imply. A "like" or "poke" on Facebook can be oh so misleading. The phone, or better yet antiquated in person meeting, might still be the best way to battle the occasional loneliness in this world. I hate to sound like a Luddite, but little in technology replaces the in person contact. Social media hopefully is just a vehicle for getting to that contact.

Got to go... I am wondering what my view count on my blog is now....

just kidding...

or am I?

To-Do Ta Da!

2011-07-30T18:25:00.000-07:00

Think you finished your to-do list? Smiling with pride and then you hear *ding* a new text or email appears. Looking over the clean house and wake to find new dust in a corner?

You're not alone.

There's always more to do. I can promise that you would never sleep if you tried to complete everything on your to-do lists or potential to-do lists. Seriously, think about it. The crack in the wall that needs patching, the phone call to return, the bill to pay. Okay, don't stop breathing! And keep reading...

The good news is that there's always more to do.

Confused?

I recently went to a conference where a preacher said: ministry is impossible. Start there. I'd like to amend it. Life is impossible. Start there.

There are always bits and pieces left undone. So perhaps rather than collapsing in front of the TV at the end of the day exhausted that so much is left to do, maybe we can find a way to take in all that is done. We can bless what we've chosen to do--knowing so much more is left undone. We are just rambling to get through, but choosing the people and things we believe have meaning. Even the grocery store, when it provides food for the family you love, might have some sacred mingled between the pretzels and Pringles.

If you are trying to finish it all, I recommend saying the following: there is ALWAYS more to do. That's the good news because you needn't be a victim to the list, the inbox or the agenda.

Perhaps are to-do lists could become holy--those things we chose among all the many we could do--hopefully because they take us along the path to the people we are called to serve and love.

Blessed be-- even the laundry and conference calls. Blessed be.

Yes, Deer

2011-07-28T11:47:00.000-07:00

Back to blogging and back to church!

And back to daily walks with my dogs. Today, I was walking through the woods with my two dogs and a friend's two dogs that I am watching. Everyone was running around like mad, but mostly staying to the trail. I was going over to-do lists and checking messages on my i-phone. I am not sure Thoreau would approve.

Then, the dogs came to attention. Silence fell upon the forest and for a moment even the cicadas seemed satisfy to rest. The dogs turned their head with a smooth movement to look at a single fawn dashing through the woods. She whooshed by me. Then she was gone. Noise returned, the buzz of bugs, the bark of dogs and the bristle of the grasses in wind. Just like that nature interjected her own noise with beauty and a bit of harmony.

A few weeks ago, I was watching a movie on a plane trip. "Thank You, More Please" follows the lives of several twenty somethings struggling to make it in New York. It's a decent movie, but what caught my attention was the practice of one of the central characters who when granted a moment of grace or beauty simply replies with the mantra "thank you, more please."

So, I tried it out. The deer bounded and in the brief moment between absolute peace and the return of noise, I simply said "thank you, more please." It's not a "ooh goody, give me more" mantra but more akin to "thank you universe, I welcome what's next."

Maybe you have a gratitude mantra of your own that opens your heart in the presence of a gift. Try it out. You might just put down the to-do list and i-phone. Thoreau would be proud.

Lost and Found

2011-06-09T20:51:00.000-07:00

“You lost me!” it cries out from the junk bag.

Lost things are seldom kind in their return. The relief of reunion momentary when weighed against the hours spent searching for it- the lost thing. I think of cushions overturned, bags shaken and seats thoroughly examined. Frustration beaded upon my brow as I looked for that i-phone cable.

I reached gingerly into the bag of junk confounded by sudden discovery, this reunion with the lost thing. My beloved, an i-phone cord, connecting me to all that is my life, in the midst of a disparate band of objects, was there crying out to me. After two weeks of desperation turned into mourning and then resignation until at last I walked into the light of the Apple store with its eager helpful teenage associates and found a replacement.

“Don’t buy a new one. Pray to St. Anthony,” my devout Catholic grandmother would offer. But I don’t believe in Saint Anthony anymore. So many lost things.

Saint Anthony,

Please come around.

My i-phone cable has been lost and must be found!

Silence.

Until today, after a new one waits unopened in the car, my beloved has returned. The unexpected sight of the slender snake of a white wire raising its USB connection as a rattler heralding danger.

“You lost me,” it hisses mocking my newly purchased cable.

Lost things. So many lost things: the places, the little rings and charms, the names, the bittersweet memories of my grandmother’s voice. I wonder how many things we lose in a lifetime. We are transformed by loss, shaped by the absence of a beloved, and surprised when lost things return.

And don't they always return? Maybe not in a bag of junk, but in memory. Unexpected startling memories that beg us to make room for reunion. We stand in the middle of a crowded room struck by the profile of a woman who could easily be our grandmother. They call out to us, not with menace, but if we listen more closely with an offer to be opened and shaped by the bittersweet reunion-- whatever its chosen time, place, or vehicle.

So many lost things in a lifetime. So many moments of reunion if we could only welcome them, reach into the bag, invite them back into our lives like the words of an old prayerful rhyme still distantly familiar.

Saint Anthony,

Please come around.

Much has been lost and must be found.

Earth Day Dilemma: Paper or Plastic

2011-04-22T14:19:00.000-07:00

So, it's Earth Day and I was oh so proud as I went to the store driving along in my Prius. What is that they say about being boastful?

I walk into the grocery store ready to make purchases for my red cabbage kosher salad for the Seder. I am the model of holy living. Just look world, my basket practically begging to be noticed with organic local produce. Look at the good choices I made on this Earth Day! I glance outside to see my Prius and in the cup holder my reusable coffee mug. I am a moral exemplar as I place the three carrots in my basket without the little plastic bag you can put produce in. You know the ones with static cling?

I get into the checkout line and there are people behind me and some in front. I am standing there not really paying attention. Until I look over and see him. He's wearing his earth shoes, has the keys to his Prius and in his hand...oh no! Reusable bags!

I forgot my reusable bags. And then the panic sets in. It's Earth Day and everyone is going to see me without my reusable bags. Should I drive the 20 minutes home and the 20 minutes back? Too much fossil fuel, even in the Prius. Maybe I could carry it all. I look at the four heads of red cabbage and imagine them rolling across the damp parking lot and explaining to my congregation why there is gravel in their once delicious kosher organic salad.

And then I'm next. "Paper or plastic?" she asks innocently enough. Paper kills trees but how long does plastic take to biodegrade? Hmmm. I could reuse plastic.

"Plastic," I say and wait nervously patient until all is added, paid for and bagged. Then I run to the car in shame, praying no one sees.

It isn't until I am in the car that I realize the absurdity. I look around. Cars-everywhere. People with plastic bottles. In the far distant landscape I see more highways and beyond I know there is a world that is aching with inadequate solutions to energy crises and fair distribution of the resources we do have on this planet. There is no perfect, no cause for boasting. I am afraid I forgot being "green" should be far more than a decision to look good.

You see, I lost touch with why I make all those exhausting decisions every day. Is it really going to solve the climate crisis if I drive a hybrid? Probably not. Save the oceans if I cease using plastic bags? Doubtful. Modify climate change is I compost? Unlikely.

So why do it, if not for popularity?

Once long ago, I made those choices out of the love for this earth and the soul desire for it be here far after I am gone.

Perhaps these choices are not about changing the world, but about changing me. Remembering that we aren't "green" because it's now popular but because we make the spiritual commitment to living a less comfortable life in recognition that our previous ways of living are no longer sustainable.

And I happen to believe making that spiritual commitment in my own life, might change the way I empower my leaders or talk to the neighbors. And maybe that might mean a world where leaders developing policy do not have to stand in the guilt-ridden grocery line but perhaps a place with a few more choices to protect this beautiful earth than paper or plastic.

Maybe the spiritual commitment will kindle consciousness and creativity. We could use those in the face of this aching earth.

So, just in case, I'll keep using reusable bags but not because it's cool.

Happy Earth Day everyone! May you get in touch today--and everyday-- with your love for this earth and creative power to save it.

The Rights of Women: Pain in the Public Square

2011-03-18T06:36:00.000-07:00

Reproductive rights in the United States are once again under attack. At least, that's the language used by some seeking to revoke reproductive rights. Siege, battle, and operation. It's a supposed holy war except all I've heard are lies, manipulations and hate speech.

Murderer. Killer. Lost. Liberal. Those are the words I was called last Saturday. At least they gave me one compliment (liberal).

I bore witness this past Saturday to reproductive rights, after hearing from friends and colleagues of the tactics employed by anti-abortion groups in Charlotte, NC. I've been to clinics before as a defender and peace partner. I've heard a lot, seen a lot, and so I was expecting the usual. Before I posted a blog entry about the state of reproductive rights, I wanted to hear for myself what was happening.

What surprised me was how viciously some of the male protestors went after women who were going into the clinic. They would shout, "You're a murderer." Sometimes, I would hear "You don't deserve mercy. God's wrath is going to come--just wait."

The protestors would call these women out by what they were wearing or doing. They would shout words of violence across the 300 feet between the protestors and front door of the clinic. I find it hard to reconcile their behavior with the compassionate, merciful, loving religion I know to be Christianity. I find it impossible to understand their conflicting messages of respecting life and then offering words of hate to women and men who-last time I checked-constitute life.

A holy war that incites violence against women and families is hardly holy. Sure, there aren't weapons drawn or trenches dug, but make no mistake that the words shouted by these protestors to the women entering these clinics for a range of services-- many of which have nothing to do with an abortion-- constitute acts of verbal violence.

Oh and p.s. dear protestors many of the women and men entering the clinics are not even receiving abortion services. You just called a woman a murderer for getting STD testing or a routine exam. And you don't have to take my liberal word for it. For further information on how services and monies are allocated see NPR interview here.

But I digress. The more critical piece is this: the language of violence is being used against women across the country as a political tactic. Here is the truth: no protestor or pro-choice advocate could possibly know without asking why a woman may be entering the clinic. And no woman, regardless of her choice or service received, deserves a verbal assault for seeking care of her body. It may be legal to stand on the sidewalk and scream murderer, but it's far from moral.

I've been trying to find where in the Bible it says you should invade a person's body, pass judgement, verbally assault them and claim it all in the name of a God who I heard was mostly primarily a God of love. I just haven't found the passage. What I did find is the following from Micah 6:8

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.

We could use a modicum of humility, an ounce of justice and whole sea of mercy these days. We all deserve mercy of all kinds in this broken and beautiful world. We all deserve a little more humility than to pretend to know the judgement of a God. And as for justice, what is more just I ask than preserving the life of a woman and entrusting her to make decisions about the body she has been given?

Do we need mercy these days? For protecting our bodies, for making our women and families safe, for upholding the basic rights to privacy and health? No. For verbal assaults that pollute the air with hate and inflict pain? Yes, more than a whole sea could hold.

Unitarian Universalist Lent Complex

2011-03-17T14:40:00.000-07:00

Hello dear occasional readers and avid followers (I know avid may be a bit presumptuous),

I'm back after a short hiatus, due in some measure to the bustle of the holidays, followed by conferences and just good fun at my congregation!

Years ago, I attended Roman Catholic school from Pre-K through high school. Each year, Lent was a pretty big deal in the life of our school. You had to say what you were going to give up and how you were using this time in preparation for Easter. In short form for those who didn't grow up Christian, Lent is the time of spiritual preparation before Easter. It's 40 days long, though Christians calculate the 40 days each a little bit differently.

Growing up, I had a slightly less spiritual understanding of those 40 days, which for me were often measured in terms of when fish sticks would be served in the cafeteria and what days we would have a religious service instead of our first few classes in the morning. While for a good portion of my life, Lent was framed in these terms, it also included a built-in time to reflect, reconsider and recommit that I often took for granted. And though, I am no longer Catholic, I must say I miss this time of intentional preparation, reflection and quieting. So, that got me to thinking...

I think I need a Unitarian Universalist Lenten practice. Well, maybe not in those terms but I can't help but wonder if there isn't deeper truth in a human craving to go deeper, shrug off what we no longer need, and embrace a certain openness in our lives. Easter or not, it would seem Lent has a lot of uses.

There is something incredibly important about entering into a time of reflection just as the earth is breaking loose from winter and readying for the green and bloom of spring. My congregation is preparing for its vernal equinox service this Sunday. I feel in my own bones a need to clear out, say goodbye to the accumulated emotional and literal physical stuff from winter in order to welcome in new growth. Release and renewal seem so desperately needed.

So here is what I am hoping my UU Lent will look like:

-Prayer/meditation each day in the morning and evening
-Instead of TV, time for reading and writing letters to loved ones

I hope maybe you'll join me in this Lenten practice, shaping it to your theology and spirit. Let's see what spring has in store...

Wasabi and Other Spiritual Truths

2010-12-17T11:55:00.000-08:00

I love my mother. In part, because she's such a good sport when I include embarrassing, funny, sometimes awkward family stories in my sermons and blog. So with permission given from a nearly saintly mother with a life turned public, here is a recent story that has some relevance for the season...

Over Thanksgiving, my parents came to visit me in my new home in Charlotte, NC. Somehow, I mentioned that I like antique furniture a whole lot because of the character, imperfections, and stories it carries. My parents nod their head in agreement and my mom points to a dresser in an antique store window we were perusing.

"Exactly," she says pointing to a missing handle on the dresser. "Some people see this as a flaw, but really you can replace all the handles. Mix and match. It doesn't have to be perfect. In fact, I was just reading an article about how to bring the Japanese art of imperfection into your life-- the art of wasabi," my mother says smiling brightly.

I scrunched up my nose and furrowed my eyebrows. Wasabi? I mean I guess that little pea colored ball of spice added to my sushi plate isn't perfect, but an art of imperfection? I had images of wasabi sculptures in art-deco museums in Tokyo alongside wall mountings of ginger. They would serve sake in these museums and admire the wasabi sculptures while sushi bars awaited at the museum's exit.

"Really, wasabi?" I ask.

My mother looked a mixture of amused and embarrassed. "Oh, no! Not wasabi, I mean, wabi-sabi."

When I stopped laughing, I learned a bit about wabi-sabi. It's the practice of looking at imperfection from chips to cracks, as the universe's symbol of wisdom. Wabi-sabi reminds us that perfection is not possible, nor is perfection worth seeking. In this season of decking the halls, it's easy to get lost in that picture perfect Christmas. You know the image. It includes family gathered, fireplace lit, tree adorned, table set and presents waiting. I don't know anyone with a perfect Christmas. Someone is late, something burns, a gift forgotten, travel delayed with snow and ice and then there are the Christmas tree lights that won't work because a single bulb is out. You can lose days trying to find that bulb!

I know I've said this before and even blogged it before but it bares repeating (if not just for myself).

Yet, in truth the real beauty of Christmas is often in all the imperfect details: a baby born in a barn, no room at the inn, unprepared parents, and a host of unexpected guests. The Christmas story is far from a perfect story, but rather a reminder of all the hope that can be had when we let go of the picture as we would have it, and embrace the imperfections as part of the beauty in this world. Hope lies in that makeshift manger not a perfectly created cradle. The picture of Christmas is simply made holy in the surrender to all that is imperfect.

So I am wishing you all a very wasabi Christmas...hmmm.....

Mental Nutrition

2010-12-15T10:45:00.000-08:00

Someone recently forwarded me a video of a man named Narayanan Krishnan, a well regarded and talented chef. Krishnan returned home for a visit one day and saw a man so destitute that he was eating his own waste for food. It was a moment that changed Krishnan's life. He left a well paying job as an executive chef to return to his home in Madurai, India. He began feeding the poor, mentally ill, and destitute. Krishnan is now the founder of the Akshaya Trust, which to date has served over 1.2 million meals. For more information see the following CNN article.

It would be enough if the Akshaya Trust was just about feeding people. It would be enough if Krishnan was just a kind man, but there is much more to this story. His work is also about transforming social class. A member of the Brahmin, Krishnan was raised with the belief that his class of people should not look at or even touch the destitute-- let alone feed and bathe them. His organization calls us all to a higher recognition of what it means to be human, and what is possible if we call our hope into action.

There's a lot of talk about December being the season of hope. Hope takes on the image of a Christmas miracle with bells ringing and presents appearing underneath trees. The wonder-filled faces of children become the images stamped on each commercial, carol and shopping mall.

And maybe, that classic image of the child who believes isn't so off the mark from the spirit of Christmas. Remember when you believed in something? Really, believed in an idealistic way that you might make the world a better place? We tend to lose our inner child as we get older. Life is complicated and overwhelming. We forget that we don't have to settle for the world as it is. Krishnan reminds us that a little hope, a little belief, can change lives. That kind of hope goes to the heart of the nativity-- a story that is still changing lives.

A Holiday Mantra: Kindling Kindness

2010-12-03T11:15:00.000-08:00

Let's be kind. Not because Santa's watching. Or even because God may be watching. Not even because the neighbors are watching or because anyone is keeping a tally on kindness. Let's be kind because it's the spirit of something greater. It's the spirit we need in the flurry, the rush, the panic of commercialized Christmas.

I worry about the Christmas cards going out and the menorah being lit each night. I try to get the tree up in time, the leaves raked and the greens hung around every corner. I try to make the plans and the reservations. To get the right holiday cheer into music, food, clothing, presents, gift wrap, phone calls, emails, presents, and adornments (not to mention ornaments), and presents. Did I mention presents?

But what if I just let the hot cocoa get a little cold? Let the pies burn and the yard look unkempt and untidy? What if all that energy into being cheerful was actually used to rekindle kindness: the greatest cheer of all? What if I committed to being here with you and offering you kindness?

I think we are getting better at this. At least this year, there weren't any deaths during black Friday shopping as parents vied for the last Tickle Me Elmo (or whatever is big this year). And we've at least moved away from (however slowly) demanding a birth certificate from our President. But we are still here; throwing spitballs in the Senate (while the jobless rate hits 9.8%), screaming obscenities at LeBron James for a team trade, and giving hell to TSA officials who surely aren't enjoying the pat down anymore than we are.

There are a lot of reasons for the season. Perfection isn't a single one of them. It feels so easy to get pulled into the frenzy and become biting and impatient. So in the rush and the worry this year and all the excitement, which undoubtedly causes some anxiety, I am going to be kind. I am going to take in a deep breath and be kind to myself, to my neighbor, to my loved ones and church. It won't be perfect. Not everything will be complete. But there will be kindness; soul cheerfulness. And perhaps, maybe, hope may return to us all, for a moment, and for however brief, eclipse fear and hate.

In the meantime, I wrapping up kindness in all sorts of ways.

I’m Betting on the Bug

2010-11-18T14:52:00.000-08:00

As I drove home yesterday, there was a little bug on my windshield. It looked like a green stinkbug, with wings, which I am pretty sure doesn’t exist. Anyhow, this little bug was holding on for his dear life. You see I drive some on the highway to get home. And there he was, right in the middle of the windshield.

As I approached 45 miles per hour, he was still planted with his little legs clamped down. Then 60 miles and I thought for sure he was going to fly right off. After all, sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug.

But he held on. Shook quite a bit, but held on. I drove another ten miles until I reached my exit and finally pulled into the driveway. I was sure he would be dead: stuck on the windshield but gooey and sad. I imagined a little bug funeral with a Windex-salute and one final goodbye before I would squeegee him off into the ether—or at least off the windshield.

But no, he just stood up. Looked around with his little head and crawled off the car. Flew off into my front yard.

Now, I know you must thinking: flying stinkbugs aren’t real.

It might seem small but really it gives a little hope in these times of bad news and warning, that maybe I can hold on too even when our political rhetoric, unemployment rates and the environmental crisis seem to be spinning out of control. I mean even the stinkbug is holding on. Isn’t this in a Psalm? Even the sparrow has found a home, and the swallow a nest for herself.” (Psalm 83:4)

I guess I won’t be buying that self-sustaining farm in New Zealand—not yet anyway.

Truth: A Plea for Pluralism and the Spirit of Democracy

2010-11-02T10:39:00.000-07:00

There's a lot going around now about the truth. Perhaps, because it's election season folks feel compelled to find the truth. Commercials, news stories, civic leaders all promising to tell us the truth. Heck, even us religious folks weigh in on this elusive and supposedly apparent quality of the good life.

But is the search for truth all that useful? Well, it depends. If we are talking about facts such as the number of working poor in our community, then yes. But if we are seeking an absolute moral truth about God's favor or disfavor of the working poor, then I would say no. If we are searching for the cure to a disease, then yes. But if we are seeking a moral reason why people have that disease, then no. If we are seeking facts about our neighbor's religious practices, then yes. But if we are seeking to prove our neighbor's beliefs about a higher power to be good or bad, then no. Here's why:

In searching for THE TRUTH we narrow our scope. We tend to ignore paradox, mystery, and diversity. If there is one answer, then suddenly we have no use for pluralism and the diversity of human experience, which are, as near as I can tell, qualities of reality. We live in a diverse, multifaceted, pluralistic world. And persons who would try to eradicate such diversity largely become proponents of violence in one form or another.

But, can you not lay claim to THE TRUTH and still live a moral life? Sure. We've done it for ages in democratic societies. I can believe in one god. You can believe in no god. Our neighbor can believe in many gods. And we can still eat at the same table agreeing on moral principles apart from religious beliefs. This isn't new. We've lived this way for centuries. Even the Roman Empire recognized some pluralism. Shouldn't we be able to do better in the 21st century? I hope so.

But the current veracity of morally dualistic thinking would seem to suggest otherwise. We are constantly choosing between what is presented as "right and wrong." In this framework, we become morally constricted. Creative problem solving and moral reflection is deadened. This is a frightening trend in a contemporary world so desperately in need of thoughtful, expansive moral reasoning.

In the words of Holly Near,

Rise up to your higher power
Free up from fear, it will devour you
Watch out for the ego of the hour
The ones who say they know it
Are the ones who will impose it on you.

The "it" in this case would be THE TRUTH; absolute, unchanging, invisible and imposable. I am not saying we shouldn't stop believing and speaking from our truths (notice small t ) but that this endless goose chase for THE TRUTH tends to divide, harm and devour.

We recognize this as Unitarian Universalists when we affirm in our principles, "the right of conscience and the use of democratic process." It's not just about voting for our Board, calling our ministers, or holding annual meetings like General Assembly. The democratic process is also about a spiritual yearning for pluralism and a religious belief that without such diversity, we would be morally impoverished.

So, please, let's stop slinging THE TRUTH at each other because it really only distracts us from sitting together at the table. This is the only way we can possibly begin the ministry of alleviating the world's suffering and bringing about a compassionate, equitable and just world.

Tornadoes and Crickets

2010-10-26T21:09:00.000-07:00

This evening there were tornado warnings for some of the counties surrounding my new home in Charlotte. Aside from the winds, and perhaps rain after this post is published, all seems quiet now on my little patch of the Piedmont. There is a lamp on the corner of my street. In its soft glow at this late hour, I can see leaves being gently blown from the branches of a willow tree. It looks like an autumnal snowfall.

It's still warm. The crickets are chirping, even at midnight. They don't seem too worried. The dog seems to disagree. She's pacing. I am weighing the promise made in their chirping against the odd glow of the sky. Tornadoes and crickets.

It's a little like life these days. Polls and news stories predict doom, offering ominous warnings in the sky. And then there are those people, who just by virtue of living their lives seem to emulate hope. Their steady words and actions give cause for believing again, and connecting with a deep love for this world.

The Rev. Mary Harrington was one such soul. She passed away today. I only met her once in New Orleans. Rev. Mary was the co-founder and president of Gulf Coast Volunteers for the Long Haul. Even in that one meeting, I was aware of the grace, inspiration and depth of spirit that Mary brought to ministry and life in general.

Mary had an incredible ability to pay attention, particularly to the natural world. Her blog "Duck Dreams" is a testimony to this great gift she brought as she wrote about the world around her. From the simple sights in nature, she drew an eternal wisdom.

In honor of Mary this evening, I am paying a little more attention to the world outside these walls and windows. Tornadoes and crickets. I think I'll side with the crickets tonight.

Spiritual Improv

2010-10-21T12:11:00.000-07:00

I recently went to a comedy improv show. After the show ended, I spent some time talking to one of the comedians who told me that improv shows had nothing to do with being funny. In fact, according to this performer, if you tried to be funny you'd likely mess the whole thing up. The challenge was to be in the moment and listen to what the other performers were saying. If you were trying to put together your response, then you would likely lose the humor in the moment. You had to be willing to live in the moment and respond with anything that was on your mind at any given moment. You also couldn't try to steal the show by working up to a big joke. Just in the moment, be yourself, and be brave.

The dog with her "ball"

Yesterday morning when I let the dog out I threw her ball for fetch. She returned with a very large stick, which could perhaps also be called a small branch. Spiritual improv. You run out looking for the ball, which maybe you can't find because it rolled underneath the deck but the important thing is you found this great stick. A really wonderful new toy. So, you change ideas mid-run because hey it's no big risk to drag this four foot branch across the yard. Just in the moment, be yourself and be brave.

Theoretically, Unitarian Universalists have a great deal of room theologically to be spiritual adaptive and to find in life opportunities to transition meaning by living in the moment. In practice, I am sure it is no easier for UUs than most. Living in the moment is challenging to say the least. With multitasking and time conservation veritable demigods, pausing to appreciate the slightest change in tone and tenor is not appreciated or valued.

So here is my attempt to live out my vocation for this week, a little mantra if you will: just in the moment, be myself and be brave.

Let's give it a try. It might just lighten things up a little and help us see the world with creative spirits.

Silent No More: Standing of the Side of Love

2010-10-12T14:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was National Coming Out Day. Today is the 12th anniversary of Matthew Shepard's death, the young man whose death brought national attention to hate crimes.

Twelve years after Matthew's death, I wish we could say that hate crimes are no longer a frightening reality in this country for many LGBT citizens. But recent news tells us otherwise. Bullying and beatings continue. In recent months, the country grappled with the suicides of six youths largely attributed to homophobic bullying. Justin Aaberg. Asher Brown. Raymond Chase. Tyler Clementi. Billy Lucas. Seth Walsh. These are not just names. These are young men who had dreams, friends, and families. Our world is poorer for not having seen them into adulthood and known the gifts they would bring us as adults.

Then on Sunday, news spread quickly of two teenagers and a man who were attacked by a gang in the Bronx for being gay. The young men were tortured for hours. This on the heals of reports of another man being attacked at the famous Stonewall Inn.

Having served as a Partner in Peace at the recent Charlotte Pride Festival, I can assure you that the religious voice rallying against the LGBT community is still out there. Using the right of free speech as a shield to slew hateful words and threats, these protestors demonstrate a dangerous ethos in the American public. This is not about politics, or free speech. This is about the insidious nature of hate to hide behind any excuse justifying violence.

Religious persons who would condemn love in any form have lost the essence of faith. From 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, "¹If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. ²If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. ³If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing." Without love, we gain nothing. Without love, sermons and prayers fail. Without love, we've lost religion.

We have seen in recent months that hate speech is not just a few words shouted in the air but serves as emotional weapons assaulting the LGBT community. Enough is enough.

We, the progressive people of the Piedmont and beyond, must pledge to be silent no more in the face of hate crimes. Silent no more when politicians pander to discrimination like Carl Paladino. Silent no more when religions hide behind misguided interpretations of scripture to support state and church sponsored bigotry.

I am proud to be the minister of one such church who served as partners in peace at the Pride Festival, ensuring that pride attendees had safe passage into the festival past the protestors. Yesterday evening, a vigil was held in Charlotte for the youth who committed suicide. Faith communities were in attendance. This is a critical step toward breaking the silence. We, progressive persons of faith, must continue to overcome the tidal wave of hatred.

And if you should be a LGBT youth reading these words, please know that you are not alone. Please hold onto the knowledge that there are communities outside the bullies and religious rhetoric; communities who love and support you. Please, hold on for the world will change for the better.

May love be the legacy left in the wake of these recent deaths. May love spur us to speak in the tremor of silence. May love call our hearts beyond fear and into the vision of diversity, straight to the heart of the prophetic promise held in each rainbow.

Take a Deep Breath...

2010-10-08T08:42:00.000-07:00

If you are in Charlotte, North Carolina then you just breathed in air from the country's 10th smoggiest city, according to the American Lung Association accounting of our ozone. Yikes!

Most of us have read the news about the effects of the climate crisis in terms of large scale natural disasters as well as changes in icebergs and polar conditions. We've read about the destruction of our oceans and extinction of vital species.

Yet, the truth is that the climate crisis is already affecting our families and children here in our homes. You don't need to seek out large scale natural disasters but rather look to the insidious effects of pollutants impacting our daily air quality. In Charlotte, for example we have 56,000 pediatric cases of asthma. The cause, you might ask. In part, because of our hot summers but also attributed to the fact that so many Charlotteans commute to work with cars, which contribute to our air pollution. And then there is the problem of our energy source--the coal fired power plants. While our own Duke Energy is considering closing seven power plants (likely in part because of the cost to adhere to new environmental standards, see Article on Duke Energy), they still are nearing the end of construction for the Cliffside plant in Rutherford County which promises to increase our demand on coal energy.

So, climate change is already in our own backyard as pollutants threaten the safety of the air we all breathe. It's not only a question of cinematic images of tidal waves, but also a much-less-media-captivating image of diminished air quality.

Fortunately, North Carolina is blessed with community activists and faith leaders who have not only protested the Duke coal plant but also continue applying pressure on Washington to end mountaintop mining (another way pollutants can be released, not to mention the immediate ecosystem impact). For more information see the Washington Post article on Mountaintop protest in D.C. We are blessed in North Carolina with some excellent organizations that help combat the air crisis as well as mountaintop removal. I encourage you to check out Clean Air Carolina and Repower North Carolina as well as Appalachia Rising(not local to North Carolina, but a critical group in this work). None of us has to reinvent the wheel to have impact.

We are fast approaching 10/10/2010 the "Global Work Party" created by 350.org, an organization begun by Bill McKibben (author of the 1989 global warming book The End of Nature). 350.org is creating a global movement seeking solutions for the climate crisis. The number 350 signifies the safest limit, 350 parts per million, for CO2 in the atmosphere. We're currently at about 390. The "Global Work Party" is a chance to join millions around the world in seeking solutions for climate change. I encourage you to check out 350.org and find an event near you to join. No matter how small, you can have an impact. The world is changed by the transformation of one heart at a time into one action at a time. It's possible to preserve this earth for our generation as well as the next.

This really isn't just about air particles, coal plants, and mountaintops, though any one of those would suffice for a global movement. It's about living a life of faith grounded in the belief that we are connected to this earth from the air we breathe, the ground we walk upon and the water we drink. We are pieces of a much larger communion of life: the interdependent web of existence. We each play a salvific role in that web when we become conscious of our connection and decide to act in accord with all that is our life.

Amen, and Happy Global Work Party Day.

Belief, Reconsidered

2010-10-02T14:44:00.000-07:00

Could you live without explaining your beliefs? Really, in a world of constant tug and pull on your moral compass, would it be possible to not concern yourself with getting the beliefs straight and still be religious?

I sure hope so.

In a recent submission for Quest entitled "Religion Beyond Belief" Peter Morales, President of the Unitarian Universalist Association, contends that "belief is the enemy of religion." Given that I've spent quite a good portion of my life studying belief, I was intrigued. Morales argues that conversations about what we believe generally move us away from the heart of religion, which he defines as "faithfulness to what we love."

"Faithfulness to what I love" helps me get closer to the transformative religion I seek. Instead of debating with people, suddenly sharing what I love helps me move toward people and toward transformation.

But how are we faithful to what we love? It's easy to feel overwhelmed by the shear mass of commitments, calls, and cascade of news. There is so much to do sometimes. I've been feeling a little overwhelmed lately watching the news about the economy, immigration rights controversy, poverty rates, wars, hurricanes, floods,... do I really need to go on here? I would bet you've felt overwhelmed at times too.

Jon Stewart surprised me recently by offering the most powerful salve to those feelings of powerlessness. Well, actually it was Arianna Huffington. During her interview on the Daily Show, she explained that she is astounded by all that average Americans are doing in the midst of the unemployment crisis. It's not just the elections and big rallies, but also the daily steps, Huffington reminded the audience. Like creating networking sites for unemployed Americans to barter services or how neighbors are trading skills in the absence of money.

It's not just the big leaders and big events that make changes, but it is the daily acts that compose a life well-lived. It is the daily acts that ultimately bring about the shift in consciousness we need. It's those little acts, which give us the courage and resolve to take the big steps, sign the petitions, and stand in the public square. In the words of Forrest Church, "Begin small. Dream possible dreams. Set out to climb a single hill, not every mountain. Soul work needn’t be strenuous to be high impact. You can begin transforming your life with a single phone call. Or by writing a kind letter. Or by opening your blinds to let the sun flood in. Don’t say it’s nothing. It’s everything. For you have now begun."

So when you wake up tomorrow, sit up tomorrow, and step with your feet on that floor for what will you stand? What is the one step you will take to be faithful to what you love?

Keep Daydreaming, Doctors Advise (And This Minister)

2010-09-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

It seems Einstein was wrong. Well, at least on one accord. Einstein is often attributed as saying “necessity is the mother of invention.” Not so, some historians and sociologists tell us. Recent thought (see New Yorker Article by Adam Gopnik) suggests that invention and advancement also come from times when societies have institutional dreamers. That is, when a culture promotes exploration for the simple sake of exploration. When our basic needs were met, it is not out of necessity but rather daydreaming when great inventions and creations arose.

Take flying-- a home grown invention in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. The Wright brothers often credited their final first successful aeroplane with an early toy they had played with in childhood. This toy helicopter would eventually lead them to discover one of the single greatest inventions of the 20^th century. The aeroplane would forever change travel, international relations, and our relationship to the great expanse of sky.

From a simple siesta in the afternoon to rocking porch traditions, dreaming flows throughout many cultures. It turns out it's not just simple resting, but an active way to form vision for the world and renew the spirit. An interesting article was passed along to me by a newcomer at our church. Worth checking out. Written by Robert Lee Hotz, this article argues that daydreaming helps develop and nurture neural connections leading to great insight. See Effect of Daydreaming on the brain article

If we look out across great inventors and thinkers from Dante to Martin Luther King, Jr,. we find that their visions, which changed the world, were born in a life of dreaming and exploring. Dream they tell us. Dream bigger than your heart’s desire and your mind’s limitation. Dream the impossible. Dream beyond this world. And then from those dreams what may come is just the vision to transform the world.

So, go look at those clouds!