Monday, December 29, 2008

Both And - Sermon from Dec 28, 2008

Advent and Christmas have been celebrated. New Years is around the corner. We are in a liminal space - an in-between time. At this time we tend to look back and then look forward. Some of us look more in one direction than the other.

I spent my Christmas with my family. I got to talk about some really interesting things. One of those conversations had to do with the artist Escher. Escher is an artist who is most famous for his mathematical drawings. One of his pieces is a Mobius Strip with ants on it.



My brother and I talked about the marvel of Escher's art and especially about the Mobius Strip. We discussed it with his 10 year old daughter. She was intrigued. We explained that although the Mobius Strip appears to have 2 sides, it really only has one side. As you look it, you can see that the inside is the outside and the outside is the inside. Unlike a simple loop, you can trace your finger around both the inside and the outside without lifting your finger.



John the Baptist says that Jesus was later than him, but ranks ahead of him because Jesus was before him. In the Gospel of Thomas, Jesus says that we must make the two into one, the inner like the outer, the outer like the inner, the upper like the lower, and the male and female into a single one so that there is neither. We are to make eyes in the place of an eye, a hand in the place of a hand, and so on.

I can't think of a better example of this than the Mobius Strip. What is this thing? It's simple really, and yet the mathematical implications are quite complicated. All this is, is a loop with a half-twist. A loop on its own has an inside and an outside. You can trace the inside with your finger, but you must pick up your finger to trace the outside. Add the half-twist, and the inside becomes the outside and the outside becomes the inside. The two sides become one side.

The loop, or a circle, already has no beginning and no end. The non-linear way in which John the Baptist described himself and Jesus might be seen in the loop or the circle. Then Jesus, as Thomas relays it, adds a half-twist.

This could be our life. We could be like the Mobius Strip - no beginning, no end, the inner like the outer and the outer like the inner. There's a mystery to it. I think this speaks of our spirits and our bodies; our brains and our thoughts; our life and our death; us and our Divine Beloved. It speaks to the year ringing out and the year ringing in.

This is a metaphor for wholeness - for being complete. The sacred call to give ourselves to wholeness infuses meaning into what might otherwise be a lesson in futility. This strip doesn't go round and round for no reason. We are not spinning our wheels. We are fusing our spirits with our bodies. We are considering the relationship of the Holy Spirit with our spirit. We are looking ahead at the New Year and looking behind at the past and seeing that with our loving Creator one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day. Time and eternity twist into one another just as our spirits twists into our bodies.

This is encouraging. The faith that we are living is embodied in us. It is in our hands and our feet and our eyes. We do not need to make either/or choices, we can make both/and choices. When we make the male and female into a single one so that the female is not female and the male is not male, then we don't have to live by the crazy rules that our society lays out for us saying girls should act this way and boys should act another way. When the upper is like the lower and the lower like the upper, then we can abolish the hierarchical systems that are used to mis-distribute wealth, power, and education. We can be whole people and we can create societies that are whole. We need to remember that our half-twist is what creates our wholeness.

In a few days, when 2008 is in the past and 2009 becomes our present, let's also remember that we live in eternity right now. We carry the Sacred in our bodies, just like Jesus took flesh upon his Sacredness. We are born of the Spirit just like Jesus was born of a Woman. It's a mystery, and it lives in the half-twist of ourselves. It is our glorious faith that we embody.

Friday, December 26, 2008

In Which I Wonder About Being Alive

I am ... what I can only describe as ... stoned. Stoned on dashed white lines, ice, rain, fog, and rock-n-roll.

When I was a teenager, one of my favorite things was to drive in the fog. Not just to drive in it, but to drive fast. I would drive 80 ... 90 mph through the fog of rural Michigan. It was a thrill. It was a thrill that I lived through time and time again. It wasn't the only thrill. My fast fog driving is indicative of the types of thrills I sought out. How did I live?

Tonight, as I drove through the fog on the icy roads covered with water while listening to music, I realized that I had no interest in driving fast. I had no interest in driving at all, but drive I did ... most of the day, finally getting home to Chicago around 9pm. Usually this is a 6 hour drive. I was passed by many cars. I also saw many cars in the median; some turned on their sides or upside-down. How did I live as a teen?

The music and the dashed white lines of the highway kept me in a mindful trance. I spent my weekend with family. We discussed Escher, suffrage for white women, suffrage for blacks, the meaning of eternity, and quality of life vs climbing the ladder of "success." I love the conversations that I get to have with my family. Not just the adult members of the family, but the kids too. However, as I drove today, I did not let myself rehearse what we said and think even deeper about it. Mostly, I was grateful to be alive to have the conversations. I prayed to be allowed to have more. It looks like my prayers have been answered, once again.

To all that is sacred and holy, I extend my heartfelt thanks. This includes all the people who sent up requests for my safety - those requests are holy and sacred. I did not have even one tragic incident.

Below is an example of the music I listened to.










Sunday, December 21, 2008

Ahhhh, Solstice

The Northern Hemisphere's shortest day of the year. It is pretty bitter cold outside, here in Chicago. I had to go outside for a minute earlier, but soon I will be driving to my morning church service. Brrrrrr.

I am celebrating this cyclical shift, grateful for the lengthening of days. I am also grateful that in six months the cycle changes again, not allowing the days to lengthen beyond the time they are marked.

I do wish, however, that I could enjoy this cycle with out the bitter cold. I enjoy the lengthening of darkness, but I can't go play in it the way I want. What to do - what to do? I will enjoy this day - the shortest day - just as it is and just as I am. I will drink my tea and print out my sermon. I will take my vitamins to ward off this potential cold. And I will remind myself as often as I can to "center down" in the midst of finding parking spots and bundling up to go from car to church to car to the other church to car to home. I am grateful for a car. I am grateful for my jobs. I am grateful for my home.



Music and lyrics Joni Mitchell.

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky was full of thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go 'round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game

Then the child moved ten times 'round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like "when you're older" must
appease him
And promises of someday make his dreams

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go 'round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers
gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels through
the town
And they tell him, "Take your time, it won't
be long now
Till you drag your feet to slow the
circles down"

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go 'round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game

So the years spin by and now the boy
is twenty
Though his dreams gave lost some
grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams, maybe better
dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go 'round and 'round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go 'round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game

And go 'round and 'round and 'round
In the circle game

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

AIDS Service of remembrance: this Friday, December 19th in Chicago

I know this is a sudden announcement, but that's due to the spontaneous nature of this event.

This Friday, December 19th, The Chicago Coalition of Welcoming Churches and Broadway UMC invite you to an HIV/AIDS service of remembrance. This will be a time of worshiping our Divine Beloved; mourning those whom we have loved and lost to this dreaded disease; and strengthening ourselves to continue to fight for a cure.

You are welcome to share a 2 minute story or reflection. We would love to hear from you.

Please join us at 7pm, Friday December 19, 2008 at
Broadway United Methodist Church.
3338 N. Broadway Street
Chicago, IL 60657

773-348-2679

For more information on how to get to BUMC, please check out their website direction page.
http://www.brdwyumc.org/content/view/19/23/

Friday, December 05, 2008

Prop 8 Protest in Chicago

The pastor preaching here is Rev Sherrie Lowly. She is pastor of one of the partner churches of the Chicago Coalition of Welcoming Churches.

Monday, December 01, 2008

"Hope is the cure for now, until we get a real one."

Texts:
Isaiah 9:1 - 7
Three selections from the book, "The Faces of AIDS", June 2001


1. "Teresa" Place of origin: Central America. Currently lives in the Chicago, Illinois Metropolitan area.

"I am sharing my story because some people are just finding out they are HIV-Positive. If they read something about somebody, it gives them hope, and they understand it better. You can think, 'I am the only one in the world with this problem,' and that's not really true."

**************************
2. Nile, age 13

You can't get AIDS from being a friend.
Not from a hug or a pencil or even a pen.
So why won't anyone let him play?
"That kid has AIDS," my friend responds,
"So you see, there's nothing more to say."

So that's the problem that shuns this boy.
That is the reason he can't touch the toy.
This is crazy, it has to end. You can't get
AIDS from being a friend.

****************************

3. a camper from Camp Heartland (a camp for kids with HIV/AIDS)
"At Camp Heartland, I've realized that hope is the cure for now, until we get a real one."

****************************

We anticipate the celebration of the birth of Jesus, our Christ. Mary's agreement to become pregnant with the Messiah speaks of the hope she had for the future of her people and her family. She did not refuse the angel who had come in the name of the Divine. She embraced the challenge and lived in the hope of the promise, the hope of the future.

The anonymous camper at Camp Heartland has a similar hope. This camper believes there will be a cure, and the hope in that cure becomes the cure for now.

For Teresa the hope is in sharing her story. She is offering hope in the telling of her story. It is like the gospel writers sharing the "Good News", and Isaiah proclaiming a promise that there will be no more gloom and that a child will be born who has authority to establish endless peace, and justice with righteousness.

"Hope is the cure for now, until we get a real one." As Christians, the real cure that we await this season is the birth of Jesus. In this baby we anticipate the proclaimed promise of Isaiah to be realized. But in fact, this is a ritual of remembering for us. The child Jesus was born and lived and healed and did wonders. It is a ritual that helps us remember our role as followers of Jesus. We are the voice, the body, the house of the realm that Jesus proclaimed ... that Jesus taught.

The work continues and it's easy to get bogged down in the work. It's easy to identify with the work instead of with the hope and the promise. When the angel visited Mary, the message was one of the future. Still, she had to carry the child within her body and then raise the child. There was work to do. I think it was the hope in the Angel's words that sustained her.

I think it is hope that can also sustain us. We have the good news of God's love to proclaim. We are pregnant with a future. What is the promise that you have heard that gives you hope? What is the proclamation that you heard that gives you hope? The young camper at Camp Heartland believes that there will be a cure for AIDS. Teresa believes telling her story will bring hope. Isaiah believes there will be never-ending peace because of a child yet to be born. Mary believes the child she carries in her body is the Messiah her people need. What these people believe about a better future gives them the cure of hope for today.

Hope is powerful! It can give you strength. It can sustain you. Hope can give you a smile ... a joy. It can reach out to you so that you can reach out to yourself and to others. Hope inspires us to act for the change we believe in.

What is your hope? What inspires you to act? What is your cure for now as you wait for the revealing of future change?

My hope is that adults can unlearn hate and prejudice and that children and grandchildren will grow up expressing love for all people of all ilks. My hope is that solidarity today will result in communities tomorrow. My hope is in the Beloved Community. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. expanded on the notion of Josiah Royce's Beloved Community. According to the King Center website,

"Dr. King's Beloved Community is a global vision, in which all people can share in the wealth of the earth. In the Beloved Community, poverty, hunger and homelessness will not be tolerated because international standards of human decency will not allow it. Racism and all forms of discrimination, bigotry and prejudice will be replaced by an all-inclusive spirit of sisterhood and brotherhood. In the Beloved Community, international disputes will be resolved by peaceful conflict-resolution and reconciliation of adversaries, instead of military power. Love and trust will triumph over fear and hatred. Peace with justice will prevail over war and military conflict.

Dr. King's Beloved Community was not devoid of interpersonal, group or international conflict. Instead he recognized that conflict was an inevitable part of human experience. But he believed that conflicts could be resolved peacefully and adversaries could be reconciled through a mutual, determined commitment to nonviolence. No conflict, he believed, need erupt in violence. And all conflicts in The Beloved Community should end with reconciliation of adversaries cooperating together in a spirit of friendship and goodwill." http://www.thekingcenter.org/prog/bc/index.html

If I were to distill my hope in a couple of words, those words would be Beloved Community. That's what I have heard proclaimed, that's what I believe in for the future. The Beloved Community is a manifestation of the Realm of Heaven that Jesus proclaimed. It is how I interpret what Isaiah proclaimed. It is the cure for tomorrow. My hope for the Beloved Community is my cure for today until it is manifested in all its glory.

What is your hope? I want us to spend a few minutes writing down our hopes. I brought this little Christmas tree. Over the course of Advent we are going to decorate this tree with our ideas about Hope, Love, Joy, and Peace. It will be our Advent Tree. Think about what you believe, the promises that you hang on to, the future that you envision and then think about the hope that is the cure for now until the real cure comes.