Biblical Potluck

A minister for whom I was to read the scripture for his sermon delayed giving me the reference until, minutes before worship, I asked again. “Oh, I’m glad you reminded me,” he said, “Let me find it.” And he began thumbing through his Bible for the reading with which he seemed to have spent little time.

Another minister once told me he had tried “that meditation and prayer stuff,” but rather proudly announced he had never really “got it.”

A Roman Catholic priest for whom I served as his first Protestant friend began looking at the texts and preparing for his Sunday homilies on Wednesdays rather than Saturdays, he said, because of my influence.

The pastor whom I credit with my becoming Presbyterian in college had an intelligent, deep spirituality that blossomed in solid preaching and social activism. He wrote his sermons in phrases, as if they were poetry, and I am grateful he gave me a few of his manuscripts upon retirement. One especially memorable sermon was about “The One Remembered Line” we sometimes take from a sermon that gets us through the week.

A college religious studies professor remarked to us, his students, that in his first parish job description, he insisted on having twenty hours per week for reading, study, reflection, prayer and sermon preparation. Another professor admitted becoming increasingly hesitant to enter a pulpit, believing more and more that preaching is such an awesome responsibility, something I couldn’t altogether understand then but a feeling with which I resonate with age.

And the activist pastor I first worked alongside after graduation from seminary explained to me that he woke daily at 6 a.m. for two hours of prayer, reading, and silence, having been reared a Quaker.

While “acknowledging his [or her] poverty,” Pope Francis writes, “The Sunday readings will resonate in all their brilliance in the hearts of the faithful if they have first done so in the heart of their pastor.” He quotes Thomas Aquinas that preaching should be “communicating to others what one has contemplated.”

He encourages preachers in the practice of lectio divina, a mindful and prayerful reading of scripture. During the men’s monastic retreat I attended a couple of weeks ago, we practiced lectio divina with John 14:1-14, a text which Jesus begins, “Let not your hearts be troubled.” The phrase I gravitated to was Jesus saying “I will take you to myself.”

When that was the gospel the following week, I, as guest preacher, invited Ormewood Park Presbyterian Church to do lectio divina with the text, providing a copy for everyone, giving a chance for each to share the phrase that spoke to them. I knew this scripture would resonate in the heart of a congregation that faced so many recent challenges.  I explained that, were Sunday worship reinvented, this might be a desirable practice.

Giving it still more thought, it occurred to me that Sunday texts could be assigned much like a church potluck. Instead of last names beginning with A-F bringing salads, they could read the Hebrew lesson in preparation for worship. Instead of main dishes, G-L might contemplate the Psalm for the day, while M-R could reflect on the Epistle lesson. And instead of bringing desserts, S-Z could meditate on the Gospel.  To be fair, a congregation should rotate the assignments. To be honest, I have experienced abundant as well as sparse church potlucks, so it depends on the spiritual investment and generosity of the congregation as to how this will turn out!

Often we want church leadership “to do it all for us,” rather than doing our own spiritual work. But my experience is that people attracted to spiritual formation are eager to do their own work, in the spirit of the apostle Paul’s advice to the church of Corinth:  “When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.”

For me, the “punch line” of the men’s monastic retreat came when our leader, Carl McColman, who has written his own excellent and readable The Big Book of Christian Mysticism, recounted once being asked by an interviewer on a program, “If you could recommend only one book on Christian mysticism, what would it be?” To which Carl responded, surprising the host, “Why, the Bible, of course!”

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Related post:

Open Your Refrigerator

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You are encouraged to use a post or quotes in personal reflection, worship, newsletters, and classes, referencing the blog address when possible: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite, catalogued by year and month. For specific topics, use the search feature in the upper left corner of the site.

Copyright © 2014 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved. 

Multiculturalism Cuts Both Ways

“A People of Many Faces” is one of the more intriguing sections of Pope Francis’s The Joy of the Gospel, having to do with cultural incarnations of Christianity. “We would not do justice to the logic of the incarnation if we thought of Christianity as monocultural and monotonous,” he writes.

Earlier he states, “The history of the Church shows that Christianity does not have simply one cultural expression, but rather, ‘remaining completely true to itself, with unswerving fidelity to the proclamation of the Gospel and the tradition of the Church, it will also reflect the different faces of the cultures and peoples in which it is received and takes root.’” Here he is quoting John Paul II.

The direction of his argument appears to be that Western culture should not impose our cultural values on other cultures, affirming “it is not essential to impose a specific cultural form, no matter how beautiful or ancient it may be…we in the Church can sometimes fall into a needless hallowing of our own culture, and thus show more fanaticism than true evangelizing zeal.”

Quoting John Paul II once more, he encourages us “to work in harmony with indigenous Christians,” because no culture or tradition has a monopoly on Christian expression.

Progressive Christians would applaud that and have tried to apply that in attempting the globalization of our respective denominations and traditions. In my view we do so at the risk of compromising our own cultural values. The equality and rights of women as well as of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender women and men immediately come to mind. 

The faltering Anglican Communion over women priests and gay bishops and the recent disappointment of the United Methodist General Conference to change its policies on LGBT Methodists serve as examples of the imposition of the values of other cultures, failing to respect Western and specifically American culture, which have “evolved” on both issues.

A step further: the logic of Pope Francis’s argument would also culturally contextualize conservative Christians’ reliance on church tradition regarding the place of women, the definition of marriage, and the treatment of sexual and gender minorities.

“We cannot demand that peoples of every continent, in expressing their Christian faith, imitate modes of expression which European nations developed at a particular moment of their history, because the faith cannot be constricted to the limits of understanding and expression of any one culture.” And here again the footnote doesn’t cite the progressive Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, but John Paul II’s apostolic exhortation Ecclesia in Asia.

Countless books, articles, and dissertations have been written that document how church tradition on issues of concern to progressive Christians has been held captive to previous cultural understandings, misunderstandings, and prejudice. The competition between the less egalitarian and more dualistic Christianity of Rome and the more progressive Celtic Christianity is but one example of how Christian cultures collided early on.

The Bible counters culture well: “Behold, I am doing a new thing.” “You have heard it said of old…but I say to you.” “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” “For freedom Christ has set us free.” “Do not call unclean what God has called clean.” “God shows no partiality.” “Why should my liberty be determined by another’s scruples? If I partake with thankfulness, why am I condemned for that for which I give thanks?”  

“New occasions teach new duties,” as the hymn “Once to Every One and Nation” proclaims. We may learn from other cultures, but multiculturalism cuts both ways. Other cultures may learn from us.

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Posts referencing Pope Francis:

A Common Touch

Whose Resurrection Was It Anyway?

Progressive Christian Reflections is an authorized Emerging Ministry of MCC.

You are its sole source of financial support. Please click here to make a tax-deductible contribution.Thank you!

You are encouraged to use a post or quotes in personal reflection, worship, newsletters, and classes, referencing the blog address when possible: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite, catalogued by year and month. For specific topics, use the search feature in the upper left corner of the site.

Copyright © 2014 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved. 

Lauds and Lost

A week ago today I walked toward the St. Bernard Abbey Church for 6 a.m. lauds, the morning service of the Benedictine monastery in Cullman, Alabama hosting a weeklong men’s monastic retreat led by Carl McColman under the auspices of the Spiritual Formation Program of Columbia Theological Seminary.

Then I saw the sun’s first rays midst the mists arising from the pond just to the left of the doors I approached, casting in profile an empty, inviting bench on its shore, as in the picture above, taken the next morning when the mists were not quite as billowy. Mists are a mystical draw for many, accounting for the covers of many books on the spiritual life, including my own Communion of Life, maybe because mist is iconic for divine mystery and metaphor for the unfathomable.

Surrounded by greenery of trees and shrubs and grasses, I sat on the bench awaiting the full penetration through these mists of the light of the red morning sun on the horizon beneath an otherwise clear blue sky.  I heard the day’s opening praise of diverse birds and insects: warbling, chirping, quacking, whooping, thrumming, buzzing, whirring, shrieking, as well as the occasional plip-plop from some unseen and unknown water creatures.

The incense of the day was a blend of recently cut grass, distant manure, brackish water, wisteria, and dewy freshness. I looked down at my feet to discover a mosaic of moss, roots, sandy soil, seed casings, stones, grass, and shimmering water. I took deep breaths not only with my lungs but with all of my senses.

O Lord, open thou my lips.

And my mouth shall show forth thy praise.

The next morning during our full day of silence I went for a run through the forests of the monastery’s extensive grounds. I began near the pond as a long, thick snake quickly slithered across my path from shore to shrubs, my first sign of danger on the grounds. For the remainder of my run, I carefully scanned the path in front of me and avoided planting my feet in piles of leaves or thick grasses that might conceal another unwanted surprise.

The paths were wide and shady, and seemed well-marked, giving me a false sense of confidence. Monastic modesty prevented stripping off my shirt till I was well into the woods. Passing two fellow retreatants further assured me that these trails were friendly. Following “The Big Loop,” I assumed it would provide an ample run as well as a safe return to civilization, emboldening me to take a narrower side path that diverged from the main trail.

But that was not my first mistake.

My first mistake was not looking at the map of the trails provided in the guest house. I’ve walked and run solo many a trail, from my days in a junior high nestled among foothills to high school and college walks, hikes, and runs on the cliffs, beaches, mountains, and deserts of California, and since, in multiple venues that travels and speaking trips have afforded. But as I passed again and again the same landmarks, uncertain where to turn or run, I grimly noted the irony that this is also what happens in the spiritual life. We fail to check the maps others have provided.

I was lost.

Adding to the challenge was one stretch of road I passed along several times where a buzzing bee or wasp, presumably protecting a nearby hive or nest, kept bumping into me, buzzing my face, shoulders, and chest. The last time I was stung, though by an African hornet, my entire body broke out in scary, reptilian scale-like hives, rushed to a hospital by an EMS unit. My EpiPen was home in Atlanta. I used my t-shirt to keep brushing it away, careful not to do so violently enough to prompt it to sting, ultimately sprinting for all I was worth each time I passed.

I knew I had to go downhill, but the rivulets where waters had run were misleading, as were the up-and-down trails. The main stream was my clue to the flatlands, but I was not always beside it. I had (unintentionally) been running more than two hours, so the sun was directly overhead, unable to give me direction. Earlier I had followed a trail labeled “Farm Road,” which I presumed led to the farm on the grounds of the monastery, but I had been dissuaded to pursue it by an official-looking locked gate with no pedestrian access through or around it.

Now I was trying to find that gate again, but I couldn’t quite remember where I had passed it. Intuition told me that road would lead me home.

I broke my silence and said loudly, “Can anybody hear me?” hoping that someone else was on one of the nearby trails. In a whisper I prayed, “Please God help me!”

O God, make speed to save us.

O Lord, make haste to help us.

Following a counter-intuitive urge, I went a different way on this road too often travelled and stumbled onto the gate again. This time I ignored its authority, climbed it and ran further down the road. Soon I was rewarded by the sound of a passing car. I came upon a highway, and across a field, saw three people consulting over farm equipment. One of them crossed the field to give me directions. I was four miles from the monastery.

I began running, but fearful of dehydration, also thumbed for a ride. Though my shirt was back on, how many people want to pick up a sweaty runner? Finally a local man looking for work offered me a ride. Though the evidence was clear he enjoyed smoking, my gasping lungs were grateful he chose not to. After driving me deep into the monastery grounds, out of his way, he offered me his hand and said his name was Lance Jones. I told him I would pray he finds a job. 

I will never forget his name.

Because we were still observing silence, I went directly to lunch unable immediately to tell my companions about my fearful adventure. No one knew I had been lost. One of my fears had been that, when I was finally missed, they would have to waste time to find me.

O God, come to my assistance.

And my mouth shall show forth thy praise.

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I will be guest preacher during this coming Sunday’s 11 a.m. worship of Ormewood Park Presbyterian Church in Atlanta.

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Progressive Christian Reflections is an authorized Emerging Ministry of MCC.

You are its sole source of financial support. To donate, click here. Thank you!

You are encouraged to use a post or quotes in personal reflection, worship, newsletters, and classes, referencing the blog address when possible: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite, catalogued by year and month. For specific topics, use the search feature in the upper left corner of the site.

Copyright © 2014 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved.

Forgiveness, Fruitfulness, and Fun

Please do me a favor: I am away on a week-long retreat at a Benedictine monastery, unable to promote this post on Facebook. So I ask you to circulate this link to those you believe might be interested and post it on your Facebook page and the pages and sites of relevant religious groups and denominations. Thank you!

A student in a weekend course on Henri Nouwen that I taught for the Spiritual Formation Program of Columbia Seminary here in Atlanta last year divided her final paper—to be about her own spiritual journey in relation to the material presented—into forgiveness, fruitfulness, and fun. Commending the excellence of her paper, I wrote that I might borrow her divisions (though not her content) as a fresh framework for my talk on Henri for Newport Presbyterian Church in the Seattle area this past January.

Since then I’ve realized that this framework is not dependent on my “channeling Henri,” as much as I enjoy talking about my late professor, his books, and our friendship.  It is, in fact, a good framework for the spiritual life.

Forgiveness is about letting go of the past—past hurts, grievances, failures, mistakes, disappointments, even opponents. Forgiveness may also transform the past into a fertile present if we grow from those experiences. But letting go of the past may also mean leaving behind successes, achievements, possessions—anything that prevents us from being fully present.

Fruitfulness is about letting go of the future—resisting dependence on results, expectations, hopes, even fears and more, realizing that the fruit our lives ultimately bear, perhaps beyond our lifetime,  is a gracious gift, as implied by the metaphor. We plant the seeds, we tend the plant, but we can’t control the outcome.

Fun is living in the moment: attentive, mindful, spontaneous, open, coming to our senses, unassuming but hopeful, playful as well as fulfilling. Only by letting go of both the past and the future can we live in the moment, whether playing with our children or pets, volunteering for a shelter or a just cause, playing the piano or painting a scene, to give a few examples. Yes, we have a history, and yes, we have a future. But we can’t let them distract us from the everlasting present. Past and future do best when they inform and inspire our present rather than restrict or restrain it.

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.”

Just now—the “present” in which I am writing this—I realize that letting go of both past and future to be fully present is found in this central proclamation of Jesus and the movement he began.

To repent is to let go of all the baggage that prevents our entrance into God’s realm: good stuff, bad stuff, and all stuff in between, including detailed expectations and speculations as to what the commonwealth of God might be. Sometimes the “baggage” is not our own, but that of others laid on us or in front of us, blocking our welcome. And sometimes the baggage is what we’ve achieved—as they say, “victims of our own success.”

The kingdom of heaven is “at hand,” in the present moment, but it is also the fulfillment, the “fruit” of both past and future inspiring, “seeding” the present.

What’s “fun” is the knowing twinkle in the eye of the present, the contented smile in the heart of the moment, the reassuring touch of God-with-us.  

God knows we need more fun in our lives.

Progressive Christian Reflections is an authorized Emerging Ministry of MCC.

You are its sole source of financial support. To donate, click here. Thank you!

You are encouraged to use a post or quotes in personal reflection, worship, newsletters, and classes, referencing the blog address when possible: http://chrisglaser.blogspot.com. Check out past posts in the right rail on the blogsite, catalogued by year and month. For specific topics, use the search feature in the upper left corner of the site.

Copyright © 2014 by Chris R. Glaser. Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author and blogsite. Other rights reserved.