Time to Mourn

1,000 names… 1,000 snippet obituaries. 1% of the dead and it is all only beginning.

The front page of the NY Times this morning was a profound piece of public worship. 

Naming! 

In Madeline L’Engles time quintet the capacity to adequately name someone becomes shorthand for love. 

The final act of violence is forgetting. 

Every single one of these deaths matter. If the 92 year old man in the LTC facility was stabbed by a robber or died from the blast of a terrorist bomb. We would remember. We would not shrug our collective shoulders and say “well, he was going to die soon anyways.” We would want justice done. 

How do we even begin to mourn?

This morning lawnmowers buzz around my neighborhood. My sister had to ask the groundskeepers to stop mowing when my Dad lay dying in his hospice bed. My mind returns to both the pain and the holiness of those last moments. The healing that would never have come if we couldn’t have gathered at his bedside.

How dow we begin to mourn our incapacity to mourn? 

The spiritual crises that yawns before us is more than just navigating our incapacity to worship together. The spiritual crises is how to we protect ourselves from becoming inured to our neighbor’s suffering as the astonishing becomes normal….. 

If I was in charge of a belfry then I think I would be ringing it daily for everyone that dies in my town. 

Since I don’t--- I would challenge you to meditate and pray with the NY Times this morning. 

Ascension - Pentecost

Jesus isn’t localized in one place. This seems to be the message of the ascension in nutshell. Jesus ascended to heaven so that he can be present everywhere. This feels like a good message for our current moment. You don’t have to go to any particular building to be near to Jesus. There are other ways to experience true communion. Nadia Bolz Weber recently expressed this when she writes:

I do not know when we can gather together again in worship, Lord.

So, for now I just ask that:

When I sing along in my kitchen to each song on Stevie Wonder’s Songs in The Key of Life Album, that it be counted as praise. (Happy 70^th Birthday, SW!)

And that when I read the news and my heart tightens in my chest, may it be counted as a Kyrie.

And that when my eyes brighten in a smile behind my mask as I thank the cashier may it be counted as passing the peace.

And that when I water my plants and wash my dishes and take a shower may it be counted as remembering my baptism.

And that when the tears come and my shoulders shake and my breathing falters, may it be counted as prayer.

And that when I stumble upon a Tabitha Brown video and hear her grace and love of you may it be counted as a hearing a homily.

And that as I sit at that table in my apartment, and eat one more homemade meal, slowly, joyfully, with nothing else demanding my time or attention, may it be counted as communion.

Amen.

That said: the ascension also seems to be about absence and hiddenness. If I were one of Jesus’ early followers I would not want to trade his earthy presence for the same type of ephemeral and spiritual presence that I experience now in the 21^st century. My longing for my friend would be palpable: to touch, to hear, to walk with in companionable silence. Indeed, it feels like for as long as I can remember I have been seeking out intimacy with a living Lord. I can’t say that I haven’t found it, but I would say that I cannot hold on to this feeling. 

This is the longest that I have been away from church in my whole adult life. When I was in Jr High I had an extended time of not attending, but, if anything, I was even more God-haunted. It was a powerful time in my life because I gave up on a vision of faith that was killing me. I grew up attending church alone and absorbing by osmosis a holiness theology that left me feeling like I could lose my salvation at any moment. The fear was tearing me apart and I needed to get away from it for awhile. At summer camp and on the Christian radio station I started to find other ways to think about the nature of salvation and God grace. I am wondering this morning—if little by little, imperceptibly, I haven’t slunk back towards this hyper-Arminianism of my childhood. In any event, I am feeling the same burden—the same existential dread about every decision—maybe I am going to mess this up, maybe I am doing this wrong. Perhaps, it is time—once again—to re-assess some things. 

The church embodies Jesus, but complexly. 

I know it is tearing many of us up to be away from our communal assembling, but perhaps there can be spiritual benefit from this time spent away. The Church is Christ’s body on earth, but not in a simple way – this is a complicated piece of theological sociology. We are the hands that serve, but we can also be the hands that hurt. We can be the voice the comforts, but we can also be the voice that castigates. We can be the eyes that look on the world with compassion, but we can also be the eyes that look at the world with scorn. 

It was within Christ’s absent presence that the church arose on Pentecost. In that mystery. In the blank space left by the embodied Lord ascended and snatched up to heaven....It was into a space of tangible longing and lack that the Spirit moved into -- like a rush of wind, like a mighty fire. 

May this also be true for us. 

#Ahmaud Arbery: The complicity of Saul

Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. (Acts 7:58)

The lectionary text for this week recounts the stoning of Stephen. There is a quote attributed to Karl Barth which is mostly apocryphal—“Preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other.” This morning I sit with two tabs open the Revised Common Lectionary and Twitter. 

 I read the following tweet referencing the brutal murder of Ahmaud Arbery: “Black motherhood is praying everyday that my child does not be come a hashtag.” 

This never-ending loss of life that is symbolized by the sign of the hashtag is devastating.

In Acts Stephen’s martyrdom echoes the crucifixion of Jesus. 

Both the lynching tree and the vigilantes bullet stand in the shadow of the cross and replicate the mob violence of public stoning.  

This morning the figure of Saul sticks out to me—Saul complicit without throwing a stone . 

We know that Saul is more than just complicit in his silence.  He looks on with silent approval. He thinks the stoning is necessary to maintain the sanctity of law. 

What to say?  I do not want to be made complicit in my silence.  

 I want people who I love to stop allowing murderers to lay coats down at their feet. 

I want them to stop saying “let’s wait and see.” 

I want people I love to stop defending these lynchings and stonings with defense of law and order.

There aren’t two sides!

I don’t want to hear about the difficulties of policing.

I don’t want to hear any more shitty arguments about the right to defend one’s domicile or to stand your ground. 

I don’t want to hear about the lawlessness or “violence” of peaceful protests.

I don’t want to hear character assassinations of unarmed victims.

And most of all I don’t want to be made into a Saul myself!

Abraham Joshua Heschel summarize the prophets message: in our society not everyone is guilty, but everyone is responsible.

I want these killers to stop laying their coats down at the feet of my white womanhood. 

I believe nurses!

I believe Doctors and Nurses! 

Those are the people who are saying that the covid-19 is a serious threat to public safety.

….But let’s focus on nurses for a moment!

I have many, many, many Facebook friends who are nurses and to a person they are all saying the same thing: stay home and keep the social distancing protocols. You do not want to expose your family or yourself to get this disease.

So, why aren’t we believing them!? Why are we believing Republican lawmakers? A president who is a habitual liar or random people on youtube making conspiracy videos?

Almost every nurse I have ever known personally has been an absolutely exemplary person. They are gentle but don’t try any bullcrap with them. They are smart and able to explain complex issues simply and clearly. They are astonishingly competent. They can crack jokes about the most difficult (and disgusting stuff) and yet never lose their compassion.

I believe Nurses!

I can’t think of a class of people that I trust more.

(The only group of people that comes close is elementary school teachers and we have been belittling them for the last 20 years.)

Seriously, before you hit send on your plandemic video, ask a nurse what they think about this disease?

Although they might be too busy protecting people and saving lives to return your message.

Image of God ...... or when people become "Strawmen"

We should always avoid making "Straw Men" arguments.  We should work hard not to reduce our opponent's arguments to absurdities;  I will go one step further-- whenever possible we should imagine the best version of our opponent's argument and contend with this version instead of what the person has actually said.  That said:  sometimes people make absurdly stupid arguments.  For instance, GOP Ohio state lawmaker Nino Vitale has publicly insisted he won't where a face mask.  The reason?  He does not want to hide the image of God present in his own countenance.  No one should deny that Vitale bears the mark of his Maker, but his comment displays a woeful lack of understanding about Christian teachings around the image of God.  In the age of social media such absurdly stupid arguments can function as profound distractions. I am blogging about it aren't I and why?  Well, in part because his comments provide an emotionally powerful verification for me.  How stupid! All my opponents are kind of stupid. ...

I am trying my best to stop feeding off such vindication.  If I was Vitale's teacher then I think I would start by saying:  indeed the image of God can be a basis of thinking about our own inherent worth (although all theologians don't see it this way).  For thinkers who focus on the image of God as an affirmation of the inherent worth of every human-beings it is natural to talk about this image in connection with human rights.  Yet, it is important to remember that the focus of Christian teachings on the image of God is not individualized--every person is fully, truly, and wholly made in the image of God.  The question you should be asking is does your right to "be seen" trump your neighbors right to be safe (particularly your weakest neighbors).  

Yet, we all know what kind of response I would likely get if I posted this in the comment sections of his article. 

A few years back I decided that I would try my best to not argue with people on Facebook.  I boldly told Doug that the people on Twitter and in the comment sections of articles do not really exist. ( I meant by this that the mostly anonymous opinions that people screech out in the middle of the night probably don't represent that person's worldview.)  

Yet, the comment section seemed to be a considerable voting bloc in the last election. 

 Is it wise to let all of these misguided opinions to remain unchecked? 

I don't know.   I do know that I am not that great of a debater.  I realized a few years ago that I have a tendency to simplify arguments. I am a pontificator and preacher by nature and inclination.  I believe firmly with Mr. Rogers that too much in our world is shallow and complex, but that the point of existence is to find truths that are simple and deep.  

I am trying my best to keep saying over and over again the things that I find to be simple, but deep.  I also will try my best to take every opportunity afforded me to say them. 

If I had any response to Nino Vitale it would simply--your neighbor's life is as precious as your life! Where a mask.    

If he refused to understand that basic point it wouldn't be because he is stupid.... 

It would be because he doesn't want to understand.... and the solution for that is not more argument.... 

it is conversion. 

Nature

The Robin is steadily flitting back and forth from its nest. Perhaps, there are babies? I saw my first gosling on Sunday speeding down the overflowing stream between two aggressive parents. Sam and I explore along Laurel Creek somewhat regularly, but on Sunday it was annoying/fun/hopeful to see the teen boy in the video game shirt rather in-adroitly playing in the creek (as if for the first time.) He may or may not have fallen in... Sam and I may or may not have laughed. 

This world is delightful: “Wherever you turn your eyes the world can shine like transfiguration. You don't have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see.” 

A polar vortex this weekend! We might get snow in May! This denizen of the great Northwoods has only experienced snow in May one other time and that was flakes dancing on the wind--there was no accumulation. Oh boy! What about all the people sleeping in tents? 

It is ALL a bit too much. 

This virus that ravages through some bodies ...laying absolute destruction ….and others it lilts through unnoticed. 

Wherever you turn your eyes the world can burn like a transmorgification. You don’t have to bring a thing to it except a little willingness to see. 

Nature is not enough. Nature is too much. 

I need the stories that begin with Jesus reading from a scroll announcing good news for the poor. I still need the theological poetry of Paul wherein he names that all creation is groaning awaiting a redemption that can only come when that scroll-reading Jesus becomes all-in-all: Behold a new heavens and a new earth! 

And yet, it is still all so beautiful or as Marilyn Robinson writes:

And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don’t imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try.” 

Out to sea

I watched a video of an Extreme Surfer about five years ago.  He caught waves on sandbars in the middle of the ocean and rode them for an exceptionally long-time.  He was talking about what he does when he falls in to a wave.  In short: nothing.  No flailing or struggling.  The only thing to do is to relax and let the wave drag him towards the shore.  This image has returned to me when I have faced difficult times--my Dad's cancer diagnosis, our previous job search and move to Canada.
Sometimes the situation is so overwhelming that there is nothing one can do but hold one's breath and wait to hit the shore.  That takes faith.

The difficulty though...we aren't necessarily sure we are oriented towards the shore.  When people say this time is unprecedented they are saying we might be heading out to sea in ways that we aren't quite able to imagine.


When I feel "out to sea"  I try to control things.  I crave decisive action, and yet I have found that at these times decisive action might not necessarily be particularly helpful (too often it is just flailing against the waves and taking in water).

Another image that comes to my mind is the bank run scene in "It's a Wonderful Life."  The people are panicking and seeking out certain action and immediate cash payments.  Old Man Potter is poised and ready to snap everything up.  George Bailey has the clarity to see that "the people are panicking but Potter isn't" and to implore people to think out of their values and not from their fear.

What is necessary now was also necessary before covid-19.  Our values and morals were made to serve us at precisely such a time as this.  This is a time to live deeply into our commitment to the value of each life, to the dignity of working people, to the realization that the economy serves humanity and not vice-versa.

The Old Man Potters are not losing their heads.  Jeff Bezos and other are chopping up every inch of this world that they can get their hands on right now.

The Bible continually reminds us "Don't be Afraid."  This message spoken by Angels, or God, or weary prophets is one of the most significant and persistent divine words.  Easier said than done.  And yet, thankfully Scripture also reminds us again and again that the opposite of fear is love.  Fear drives us to forget what we truly and most deeply value.  Fear can lead us to destroy what we are trying so desperately to protect.  What does relaxing into the wave look like today?  Well, it is not doing nothing.  It is doing what is essential.  Breathing in the surfer example.  Staying open one more day in the case of George Bailey.  And for me?

Remembering what I love.

What do you love?   Love that today.  Love it deeply.  Love it for itself.  Find in that love the courage necessary for today.  Just today.

A Mothering God

And I praise you for crows calling from treetops
The speech of my first village,
And for the sparrow’s flash of song
Flinging me in an instant
The joy of a child who woke
Each morning to the freedom
Of her mother’s unclouded love
And lived in it like a country.

-Anne Porter

If by chance I should find myself at risk
A-falling from this jagged cliff
I look below, and I look above
I'm surrounded by your boundless love

-John Prine

When I was in high school my Mom and I read the Bridge Over San Luis Rey together. It was when I began to learn again (after a period of Middle School overconfidence) that my Mom was indeed smarter than me. [a much better grammarian as well :)] It was also when I began to realize something that my Mom seemed blind to—that, in the words of Toni Morrison’s Beloved—love can be too thick. Or, to put the idea into theological terms not all sin is privation. That we can do harm to others when we love them idolatrously. And yet, I also began to understand even that error can be undone by the application of more love. Oh, the ironies! If we push deeply into this overabundance and excess and over-acceptance we creep into the territory that Christians call grace--a whole continent that unnerving to explore and yet, also, so easily domesticated.

My imagination is defiantly governed by a male deity which is mostly okay—I loved and was loved by my Father ...though he had his faults. I suspect that if I allowed myself to deeply imagine a mothering God that it would unsettle most everything. I got a bit of glimpse at what that deity might look like from Amy Laura Hall’s book on Julian of Norwich.

What would it mean for me to live fully into

The joy of a child who woke/Each morning to the freedom/Of her mother’s unclouded love/ And lived in it like a country.

I think this might be a fruitful spiritual discipline for me.

This quarantine reminds me most of being a very young child home through the long days of winter with my Mom, stuck in the house with no car, the wild winds howling outside, the fire in the wood stove, drawing pictures at the coffee tables, keeping busy.

On a more personal note, I have been in a difficult time in my life where Wendell Berry’s line in his poem Do Not be Ashamed is very resonant: Though you have done nothing shameful,/they will want you to be ashamed.

It was my mother who continually called me to attend to the herons beginning their evening flights, the vacant lots raising up blue chicory flowers, and tenacity of the dandelions.

It was my mother’s love that embarrassed me: made me wonder when we read The Bridge over San Luis Rey if her love wasn’t too much, too overwhelming. And yet, in this season of life I need to be confounded and surrounded, above and below, by God’s boundless love. It is the only antidote or as Thorton Wilder wrote the only meaning and the only survival.

And so I will rest hard into love and I will ask the mothering God to

bring us ... life
Out of every sort of death

And teach us mercy.