Thursday, September 24, 2009

Special Musician Announced January 31st

Justin Roth will be our special musician on January 31st.
Check him our here.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Why are you arguing?

September 20 2009 Lectionary

Mark 9:30-37 (excerpt)

Then they came to Capernaum; and he asked them, "What were you arguing about on the way?"

They were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest.

He sat down and said to them, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all."

Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them,

"Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."

Reflection

---

I could not believe what I was reading.

The most aggressive, hostile, dehumanizing rants imaginable. All over a speech. A speech by the President of the United States to be given to the nation’s school children. Since the speech had been announced, certain conservatives had worked themselves into a tizzy over whether the speech would invite the children to become little socialists. Talk radio was on fire. Names were called. Incendiary language swirled.

Nicholas, my five year old son, attends a public Montessori school in Colorado Springs. There, the principal had decided on a compromise: at 2:30 p.m., on the speech day, the children would gather and watch the president’s speech. If parents were somehow offended and wanted to excuse their children, they could do so.

Some liberal parents responded with rage. A listserv serving the school’s PTA was buzzing with letters from liberal parents about Mr. Brilliant’s compromise. The language to protest the principal’s decision was cruel. It stripped the principal of his humanity.

For days, conservatives had lessened public discourse with scare tactics, had appealed to the very worst of our nature. And now, at my kids’ school, some liberal parents were doing the same—attacking, crossing lines of decency, calling names. I could not believe what I was reading. These were parents of children with whom my children were attending school and they were acting like schoolyard bullies. What in the world was going on?

Finally on speech day, my son sat with his classmates and watched the president speak. For fifteen minutes the president told the children to do as well as they could. Nicholas sat transfixed. His eyes barely left the screen. When the president was done, along with his classmates, he clapped wildly and giggled with joy. I don't think it would have mattered at that moment if the president was liberal or conservative, black or white, tall or short; his message--not his politics--had touched the children. Nicholas looked at his mother and said: How did he know that we would all be sitting here?

In that moment, all of the posturing, all of the bullying, all of the “arguing on the way” melted away in the simple, delighted, wonder-filled response of that five year old child, sitting in a downtown classroom in the shadow of Pike’s Peak.

Nicholas seemed to be saying, “That guy treated me like I mattered, like I was important, talked to me about hope—I know he is important and he spoke just to me and my class. He noticed me. Me.” I could not believe what I was hearing—all of the cynical posturing gave way to a moment of pure goodness--an adult reaching out to children with care and compassion in his voice and a child’s simple, awe-filled response.

Whoever wants to lead, needs to serve. Whoever wants to be great needs to be present with and hospitable to the most vulnerable among us—for example, the child.

In discussing this passage, Father John Dear says: What does Jesus say to us as we argue among ourselves. Let it all go. Let go of your ego, of your pride, your pursuit of honor and fame. Let go of your selfish demands upon others that they must serve you. Let go of control and domination of others. Let go of your problems, ambitions, career, greed, and need for achievement and accomplishment. Instead, serve one another. Serve the poor and the disenfranchised. Serve the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the imprisoned, the young, the elderly, the dying. Let go of your need to argue and follow me through humble, loving, unconditional service of suffering humanity. (The Questions of Jesus, John Dear, 2004).

I remember Rev. Meg Riley telling me about going to a meeting involving a group of gay Christians and a group of Christians who were working to heal gay people of the disease of homosexuality. They had asked Meg to come and observe their meeting. Finally, after arguing about who was right—that is to say who is greatest—they became exhausted. They turned to Meg, “Have you anything to say?” Meg, in the wisdom spoken of in all the great scriptures, said simply, “If you are gay, God loves you. If you are ex-gay, God loves you.” And she sat down.

“Why are you arguing?” Meg seemed to ask. God’s love embraces the whole human race—something worth celebrating, something that calls us into solidarity with our brothers and our sisters—into relationship, into awe and wonder and delight.

In many scenarios, when things get tough, we turn to arguments, control, domination. Jesus, in this passage, with the help of a little child, says: let it go. Turn to wonder, instead.

__________

Let us then turn our hearts to prayer:

God, whose love calls us to service, remind us of the goodness that overcomes our cynicism, our power plays, our arguments, our rationality, our book-smarts, our ego, our desire to be great. Remind us of the time we served and grew, when we moved beyond where we thought we were able to go. Remind us of the times we have felt that we mattered to someone, sometime we felt acknowledged and lifted up, because someone met us right where we were. Remind us of the solidarity that comes out of such experiences. And when we forget, o God, set before us a child, so that we might welcome what we can know of amazement and wonder and goodness.

The New Monasticism

12 Characteristics of the New Monasticism
  1. Relocation to the abandoned places of Empire.
  2. Sharing economic resources with fellow community members and the needy among us.
  3. Hospitality to the stranger.
  4. Lament for racial divisions within the church and our communities combined with the active pursuit of a just reconciliation.
  5. Humble submission to Christ’s body, the church.
  6. Intentional formation in the way of Christ and the rule of the community along the lines of the old novitiate.
  7. Nurturing common life among members of intentional community.
  8. Support for celibate singles alongside monogamous married couples and their children.
  9. Geographical proximity to community members who share a common rule of life.
  10. Care for the plot of God’s earth given to us along with support of our local economies.
  11. Peacemaking in the midst of violence and conflict resolution within communities along the lines of Matthew 18.
  12. Commitment to a disciplined contemplative life.

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Marta Shared This With Me about Youth Ministry. Source unknown. Apologies for that. Important, however, esp for youth church workers.

A blog post finds it's way to us all the way from the future - 2059 AD:


 

Who would have thought with all the dire predictions making the rounds during the first decade of the 2000's that youth ministry would still be going strong in the year 2059. Yet here we are -- looking a little different, perhaps -- but still here. What a difference a few decades make. I doubt many of those youth ministers from the early part of this century (remember the short-lived iphone fad of the early 2000's?) would recognize the youth ministry of today. Just think of some of the changes that have taken place:


We stopped giving youth just what they wanted (pizza! crowds! video games! paintball!) and started giving them more of what they needed (and helped them to see why they needed it.)


We realized youth didn't need "bigger and better" (mission trips to more and more exotic locations, huge evangelism events in football stadiums, louder and louder rock concerts) -- they needed smaller, more meaningful experiences that allowed them to experience God's love in the midst of daily life.



We came to understand that our youth didn't need entertainment -- they needed engagement -- engagement in the Church's work of peace and justice.



It finally dawned on us that they didn't need more pop culture (no more helping the consumer culture in its seduction of our youth) -- they needed timeless truths that help them live the way of Jesus.


We figured out that they didn't need hype -- they needed sabbath rest.


We discovered that our teens didn't really just need charming, young, good-looking, sporty, charismatic leaders -- they need caring, mature, companions in faith. Today that still includes seminary-educated pastors (though not as many as 50 years ago and most of them are now bivocational and have a lot more training in educational theory and adolescent development), as well as lay leaders who bring a whole host of life and career experiences to the ministry.


Perhaps most surprisingly, our churches figured out that "giving youth their own space/place in the Church" didn't need to mean "separate spaces and places" but just room to grow and learn and minister alongside of everyone else in the Church. In fact, now we hardly spend anytime at all in the church building itself. Our youth ministry is happening out in the world, in the neighborhoods, at school, in the homeless shelters, the nursing homes, the community gardens, the protest rallies, and wherever there is need to hear the transforming message of the gospel.


 

Fall is a great time of the year to emphasize the connectedness of the faith community and to encourage your youth to see themselves as "one" even when they aren't together at church. Try this creative worship experience to help encourage the group to stay connected all week long.


 


 

Set out markers, crayons, and "leaves" for each participant that you have cut out of green construction paper (see template here). Each leaf should be about the size of one half piece of construction paper. Have one or more youth read aloud John 15: 1-11. This is the well-known text in which Jesus shares with his friends "I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit...." Invite the group to consider that one way we make this text real is in the way we stay connected to one another as the body of Christ.


 

Pass out the leaves and invite participants to choose a variety of crayons or markers. Begin by having each person place his or her name on one side of the leaf. Next, ask them to draw a symbol on the front of the leaf that reminds them of the group (it might be a heart or stick figure people or a cross, etc). When everyone is ready, have each person pass their leaf clockwise to the person next to them. This person should first add her or his name to same side of the leaf where the owner wrote his or her name. Now, invite everyone to write on the leaf something they are looking forward to about the new youth group year. Continue this process, passing the leaves, having each person add their name to each leaf and responding to prompts like these below:


 

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Adult Education Opportunity, Mary Oliver

I am pleased to present the first fall ADULT EDUCATION/FAITH DEVELOPMENT Opportunity for the congregation.

As some of you may know, I am absolutely in love with the poetry of Mary Oliver. So, after some conversation with some "informal advisors around adult education," I am presenting the following class:

MARY OLIVER AS GUIDE TO THE LIFE OF THE SPIRIT
OCTOBER 10, 2009 (Saturday)
9 a.m. - Noon
Mount Saint Francis Retreat Center, Pine Room

There will be ample opportunity to walk the grounds, journal, share your insights and to reflect on what matters to you. We'll some large group work together, some small group work together, and some individual reflection. Oh, and there will be snacks (Five dollar contribution to cover room and snack expenses is voluntary but appreciated).

Want to be introduced (or reminded) of the poetry of Mary Oliver...here are two poems.
When Death Comes by Mary Oliver
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

____

Why I Wake Early by Mary Oliver
Hello, sun in my face.
Hello, you who made the morning
and spread it over the fields
and into the faces of the tulips
and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the
miserable and the crotchety – best preacher that ever was, dear star, that just happens
to be where you are in the universe
to keep us from ever-
darkness, to ease us with warm touching, to hold us in the great hands of light-
good morning, good morning, good morning.
Watch, now, how I start the day
in happiness, in kindness.



Want to become an informal advisor around adult education? Just write me!
Roger

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

What Are You Invested In? Sermon August 29, 2009

Albert Schweitzer said it well:

Therefore search and see if there is not someplace where you can invest your humanity.
Where have you invested your humanity? In what? And what has been the return on that investment? As individuals, as a congregation?

This week I was in a small group setting up at Mt. St. Francis. I know many of you enjoy the U and I groups here at church, our small group ministries. Well, I was in something similar. And a woman from another state was telling a story about her week. It started off with a bang. In a calm voice, a reasonable voice, she started speaking : I was involved in a five car crash on a major interstate in my hometown. Though we were not supposed to respond, many of us drew in our breath. She went on: My daughter is going off to college. We have had many good times this summer, our family has been together surrounded by laughter and memories. And my daughter andi were driving on the interstate, talking about her imminent departure for school and next thing I knew someone hit us. We scrambled to the side of the interstate, to wait for an officer, to wait for a tow truck. And my 18 year old daughter, this mother told us, said to me: the upside of this is that now I am truly present. The distractions that I felt so overwhelming are now pushed aside. I am aware that I am alive and well, and I can truly focus on this moment of being with you, before I head to college.

This woman told us this story with tears in her eyes. Her investment paid off. Her life’s work of raising this child so that she might have wings to fly made her so proud. She was so grateful for the simple reminder, the simple wisdom, that her little girl gave to her, in a turnabout that comes to parent child relationships, eventually. The student is the teacher. The investment provides a return, beyond any measuring.

Where have you invested your whole life?

This morning I want to focus on that term investment. It is a cringe-worthy word in some ways.

Some among us have felt a sharp decline in our investments in this recession. Some of us are invested in real estate that has lost significant value over the last few years. Some have taken on the stock market and won, others have lost. Some retirements are tied up in yoyo markets that cause consternation. Our investments sometime pay dividends, sometimes crash, sometimes are slow to rebound. There are many kinds of investments. Let us focus on the kinds that involve our whole lives.
***

The other day I was walking along and I saw a bank advertisement that said: it is not what you have, it is what you save. There is some obvious wisdom there. I don’t know about you, but I often buy things with an eye towards self-gratification, towards making myself happy, well beyond the object of the desire’s capacity to give happiness. And so moderating our consumption—if we are consuming for the wrong reasons—is always a good idea.

I think perhaps the bank advertisement doesn’t quite go far enough. Let me try this out on you: It is not what you have, it is not what you save, it is what you build. It is what you are invested in, that will add up to something greater than you.

No matter your station in life you can help build something. No matter what you have or don’t have, if you are rich or poor, you can still contribute to something that might just out last you.

Many of us when considering this question: what are you invested in, would immediately turn our attention to our children or our grandchildren, or if we are childless by choice or circumstance perhaps we would turn our focus to nephews, nieces or the children of friends or a community we love. Those generations that are younger than us.

Many, like the mother I met this week, have invested their humanity in the lives of children.

As a church this morning we made promises to those children going from preschool to kindergarten that we would help to build a place in which they will be raised and come into their own power over time and that we will celebrate their coming into themselves. I can tell you as the parent of one of those children that I come to church in part so that my children will know what it is like to be a part of a multi-generational community. I need you to help raise my children—to offer up your great big hearts as teachers, as wise elders, as ‘walking sticks’ for them when they get stuck or when they have an adventurous spirit. Church is important to children so that they can learn to do community. They need us but we need them too.

At the funeral of Ted Kennedy yesterday, in a poignant moment, the son of Teddy Kennedy, who has struggled with depression, with addiction, but who has perservered in the face of all of that sadness, recalled his father taking him to a hill and the boy, who was very young became scared and unsure. He said: I cannot climb that hill. I cannot do it. And at the funeral as that middle aged man thought about his young self amidst tears he said I will never ever forget my father saying to me: I just know that you can climb that hill. I know you can do it. And I will be with you. And if it takes all day, we’ll get up that hill. And sure enough, he said, they made their way. The impact of example on a four year old boy lived with him forever. Church is a bit like thiat for our children: you can do it. We’ll be here with you. No matter what. This busy man invested his time, and his humanity, and his heart—and it saved that little boy.

For those of us who would invest our humanity in our children it is a fascinating thing to consider evolution and childhood.

You’ve seen baby ducks taggling along behind their mothers, yes? It turns out that baby ducks, goslings in the wild, will follow anything, no matter how implausible a mother. Evolution has provided for these little vulnerable things a rule hardwired in their brains (follow that!) and the rule applies to any object falling within a sketchy guideline for motherhood: and that guideline is something like (seen early in life and moving.) Now normally the first thing a gosling will see is its mother so it is normally fine, but sometimes the bird’s neural system can be fooled. Scientists call this imprinting, this tendency to lock onto an early object and fall for it, or follow it. This ability to be fooled is not just for goslings. In fact, lambs have been tricked into forming a bond to television sets, guinea pigs to wooden blocks, and monkeys to cylinders of wire bent into a rough form of a mother. What we imprint on the life of our child is crucial—a sense of our humanity.

Frederick II, a thirteenth century holy roman emperor, unwittingly conducted the first study of human bonding. So Frederick loved language, and he wanted to learn what inborn language children might speak if they were to develop without any clues from their caregivers. Would they speak Greek, Latin, Hebrew, the language of their parents? So the emperor told the fostermothers and the wet nurses to bathe the children, to suckle them, but in no way to engage them with play or to speak with them. The priest who documented the experiment notes that no linguistic knowledge was gained because all of the children died. The emperor discovered something remarkable: that children could not live without clappings of the hands, and gestures and gladnes of countenance, and blandishments.

But, it turns out, that if a caregiver, a mother, a father, makes funny faces at a child—its brain grows and grows and grows.


Walker Percy wrote that modern man is estranged from being, from his own being, from the being of other creatures in the world, from transcendent being. He has lost something—what he does not know; he only knows that he is sick unto death with the loss of it.

The mysterious, absent element is a deep and abiding immersion in communal ties.
Someone asked me, when I first considered becoming a minister, as I was doing my internship in Annapolis, “why become a uu minister—there is no fear of a mean god, there is no promise of a great salvation, there are no insiders who are special and outsiders who are deprived.” Why go through all the heartache and the headache and the trouble, if everyone wins in the end?
Why make the investment, they seemed to be saying. And all I could do to respond is say that this liberal way in religion saved me. When I was floundering, cut off and alone, isolated and awry, I found a Unitarian Universalist church in Greensboro NC, in Washington, DC in Bethesda MD that gave me something like hope when I needed it most.

Perhaps you have heard the story of the two sisters who were leaving River Road Unitarian a few years ago, and a car crashed into one of the siblings causing her great injury. And the minister, Scott Alexander, came over and found the safe sibling softly singing to her sister: Spirit of Life, a song they sang as children all the time. It is all I could think to do, said the little girl. It was something I knew and it means so much to both of us, and I thought it might provide some comfort.

That is what it means to be church to give our children this kind of grounding in the life of the free and liberating spirit of life, the free and liberating spirit of humanity. So that when they encounter the rough patches of life, which they will, we can say: we gave them a song to sing, we gave them a loving sense of the divine, whose love embraces the whole human race and all the plants and animals too. We gave them a neural wiring in the brain that said: here I am safe to be me, to be loved and to love in return.


I venture to say that our children will be a bit like those goslings—they will go off with anyone anywhere antime regardless of the theology, if they ask for bread and we give them stones, if they ask for depth and we give them shallow, pat answers or no answer at all.

*****
So this leads to our second point: most of us are invested in becoming ourselves. A few weeks ago, I chuckled as Martha stood in joys and concerns after her trip to Boston. She had her Boston University sweat shirt on: BU. It said. What a wonderfully Unitarian Universalist message: Be you.

Most of us are on a journey towards integrating all of the paradoxes, all of the ups and the downs, the triumphs and the missteps into a life of wholeness. Most of us have invested at least somewhat in that kind of self-discovery.

Do you know this poem: Now I become myself by May Sarton?
Now I become myself. It’s taken
Time, many years and places,
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces.
Run madly, as if Time where there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
“Hurry, you will be dead before—“
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!
The black shadow on the paper
Is my hand; the shadow of a word
As thought shapes the shaper
Falls heavy on the page is heard.
All fuses now, falls into place
From wish to action, word to silence,
My work, my love, my time, my face
Gahtered into one intense
Gesture of growing like a plant.
As slowly as the ripening fruit
Fertile, detached, and always spent,
Falls but does not exhaust the root,
So all the poem is, can give,
Grows in me to become the song,
Made so and rooted so by love.
Now there is time and Time is yhoung.
O, in this single hour I love
All of myself and do not move.
I, the pursued, who madly ran,
Stand still, stand still and stop the sun.

Once you stand still, someone told me the other day, a wise old man, once you stand still you cast your own shadow. You say: here I am. Here I stand. Your shadow is one of your unique features, and you do best to cast your own, instead of standing in someone’s elses or trying to create one that isn’t really yours.

I become myself.

Some of you may be clinging to something that is not life-giving: revenge, regrets.

Two monks, Tanzan and Ekido, were walking down a muddy street in the city. They came on a lovely young girl dressed in fine silks, who was afraid to cross because of all the mud.
“Come on, girl,” said Tanzan. And he picked her up in his arms, and carried her across.
The two monks did not speak again till nightfall. Then, when they had returned to the monastery, Ekido couldn’t keep quiet any longer.
“Monks shouldn’t go near girls,’ he said “certainly not beautiful ones like that one! Why did you do it?”
“My dear fellow,” said Tanzan. “I put that girl down, way back in the city. It’s you who are still carrying her!”
Sometimes our investments are wrapped up in the should haves, the could haves, the might haves, that would haves. All of those things we are invested in, committed to, clinging to that might easily be put away, if we just knew how. If we could just begin.
Are you clinging to a resentment? Are you clinging to a grudge? Are you invested in some kind of dis-abling sense of self? Some kind of rule like that monk had for his brohter monk? Today, I want to challenge you to put it aside. To take on some practice that will help you shed that resentment. It may be yoga, meditation. It may be centering prayer. It may be just listening for the small still voice inside. Why do you think we sit in silence after the pastoral prayer, after the joys and concerns?
Sometimes we all have to make the tough decision to move our investments around, to transfer from one account to another. It may be time for you to find something new to invest your humanity.
Therefore search and see if there is not someplace where you can invest your humanity.