Currently Reading:How (Not) To Speak of God by Peter Rollins

I waited eagerly for the delivery of How (Not) to Speak of God by Peter Rollins in my mailbox (I still have this childish anticipation for things coming in the mail, which is why I’m pretty much addicted to Amazon.com).  The book has been around for a few years, so I am just now getting to something that should have been on my “to read” list long ago.  Rollins essentially uses postmodern theory to reassess the state of Western Christianity, and then transcends that postmodern idea and its own limitations to offer a new vision of Christianity for the Church.  Rollins sees the “embryonic” stage of this new vision in the emerging church.

What I’m already loving about this book is Peter’s reevaluation of the understanding of God that Christian mystics explored in the medieval period.  These mystics seem swept under the rug in favor of the scholastic theology and rational interpretation of scripture that emerged from the Age of Reason (actually from the medieval period as well: including Duns Scotus and St. Thomas Aquinas).  Mystics such as Meister Eckhart and St. Francis of Assisi challenged the contemporary understanding of God, but rather than denying it, immersed themselves completely in it.

Anyway, I have just started the book, and there are already a few great gems to ponder.  Consider this insight from Chapter One in which Rollins uses the analogy of a painting and a parable to show possibility/impossibility of knowing (read: revealing, revelation) God.

When we ask ourselves the meaning of [artwork], we are immediately involved in an act of interpretation which is influenced by what we bring to the painting.  In a similar way, the revelation of God should be compared to a parable that speaks out of an excess of meaning.  This means that revelation offers a wealth of meaning that will be able to speak in different ways to those with ears to hear.  The parable is given to us, but at the same time its full wealth of meaning will never be fully mined.  It is not reducible to some clear, singular, scientific formula but rather gives rise to a multitude of commentaries.  In opposition to this, many Christian communities view the stories and parables of the Bible as raw material to be translated into a single, understandable meaning rather than experience as infinitely rich treasures that can speak to us in a plurality of ways.  Hence revelation ought not to be thought of either as that which makes God known or as that which leaves God unknown, but rather as the overpowering light that renders God known as unknown (How (Not) to Speak of God, 16).

Religions for Peace

At times I am frustrated by the lack of unity I see across the globe.  Groups like these give me hope:

Here’s the link

The Harvest: Migrant Children’s Rights

Shine Global’s new film The Harvest seems to be a continuation of Edward Murrow’s Harvest of Shame.  Both works center on the plight of the children of the migrant working poor.  View the trailer and a complete description of the film below:

Harvest

The Story of the Children Who Work to Feed America.

More than 40 years ago, Edward R. Murrow’s HARVEST OF SHAME revealed the plight of desperately poor migrant workers in America, many of whom labored long hours for less than a dollar a day. Shockingly, little has changed during the past five decades.

A migrant family today earns on average less than $12,500 a year ‘ far below the poverty level. To survive, many parents are forced remove children from school to work in the fields: as a result, nearly 2/3 dropout of school permanently.

HARVEST tells the story of three of the more than 500,000 children of these migrant farm workers between the ages of 5 and 14. Although most of them are American citizens who work hard to feed us, they do so under the legal and social services radar and lack the protections that all other American children enjoy.

The Fair Labor Standards Act, which prohibits minors from working in hazardous occupations, and children under 14 from working under any circumstances, does not apply to child farm workers, who labor 10 to 12 hour days in sweltering temperatures. Pesticides are a constant threat, causing even more severe skin irritations and respiratory problems than those suffered by adults. Child farm workers are also far more likely to develop cancers in adulthood than others their age. Accidents are another serious threat, and 20% of all farm work fatalities are minors.

Despite the rigors of their lives, however, these children have ambitions. Many aspire to graduate from high school and go on to college and meaningful lives beyond the fields.

Cinematographer/Director U Roberto (Robin) Romano documents these young workers, who with their families travel across the US following the harvest, working throughout the spring, summer and early fall. He continues filming the children as they finally return to school in early November, struggle to catch up, only to be forced to leave school again the following April.

The children’s narratives drive the film. We will watch them interact with families and friends, listening closely as they share their hopes and dreams, confess their disappointments, and reveal their everyday lives. HARVEST will take viewers into America’s backyard to confront the uncomfortable truth that the very food we eat is supplied in large measure by youngsters who are themselves underfed and overworked.

Producer, Director and Cinematographer ‘ U Roberto (Robin) Romano

Producer – Rory O’Connor

Composer ‘ David Amram

Executive Producers ‘ Rory O’Connor, Albie Hecht and Susan MacLaury

HARVEST will be shot in high definition video. Principal photography began in Minnesota and North Dakota in June 2007, and will continue in Washington, DC and Northern California, Texas, Florida and New York through the 2008 harvest. Post-production will begin in early winter 2009, with the anticipated completion of the film by late Spring 2009.

U Roberto (Robin) Robin Romano is an award-winning filmmaker and photographer whose film projects include DEATH OF A SLAVE BOY and GLOBALIZATION AND HUMAN RIGHTS. STOLEN CHILDHOODS, which he co-directed and shot, was the first theatrically released feature documentary on global child labor and has contributed to the development and sustainment of many organizations, including Rugmark, the international campaign that advises consumers how to avoid buying rugs made by child laborers.

Documentary filmmaker and journalist Rory O’Connor is co-founder and president of the international media firm Globalvision, Inc. and The Global Center, an affiliated non-profit educational foundation. O’Connor’s television and film work has garnered much professional recognition, including a George Polk Award, a Writer’s Guild Award, two Emmys, an Iris, and a Cine Gold Eagle. He also oversees the not-for-profit media watchdog site MediaChannel.org, and is Editorial Director of the social news network NewsTrust.net.

A Few Thoughts on Snares

I have a rigid interior clock that does not usually deviate from its rhythm.  Therefore, when I found myself wide awake at 6 this morning, it gave me pause.  Seriously, I get up at 7:03 every day.  That’s right: 7:03.  Why my body has started to register minutes as opposed to “oh, the sun’s up.  let’s rise, shall we?” is beyond me, and if I start thinking about it too much, I’ll probably come to the conclusion that my body somehow knows it has less time on this earth than I think, and then I’ll REALLY start freaking out.  Oops.  Too late.

I felt a bit of grace through this early rising, however: like I was being given a chance to take some time to quiet a mind that’s been rather stressed the past few weeks.  So I went out to our library room and meditated for a bit, watching the sun slowly start to rise, turning the sky from a hazy azure to pink, then orange.  I picked up my Bible and prepared to settle my mind further in lectio divina, or meditated reading.  It’s a slow, rhythmical reading of Scripture where you allow the words to just unfold within you, and when a word or a phrase catches  your attention, you take time to dwell on it, to meditate on its application to your life in that moment, in that place.

The Psalms are a great for this, because the Psalmists run the whole gamut of human emotion, from anger to fear to hatred to love to joy to praise to despair to pride to humility.  It’s all there.  Many people are turned off by the Psalms because of this.  This is supposed to be the “word of God?”  All this hatred and violence?  What gives?  But the Psalms show this relationship between God and man where man has a voice as well, and aren’t there times when all of us feel hatred and joy, love and despair- sometimes even in prayer?  But I digress…

I read Psalm 124, one of David’s “songs of ascents.”  Part of the Psalm reads:

Praise be to the Lord,

who has not let us be torn by their teeth.

We have escaped like a bird

out of the fowler’s snare;

the snare has been broken,

and we have escaped.

When I read this, an image began forming in my mind of that bird in the snare.  I sensed the panic, its heart racing, the recognition, instinctively, that this hindrance to flight was very very very wrong.  The panic increases when all attempts to escape just seem to trap it even more.  Remaining still is not an option, that way lies open only to death.

Then I began to think about what happens when someone tries to help the bird.  All too often, the bird struggles even more.

I began to think of what a snare is meant to do: it’s such a simple device that causes so much pain and hurt.  The reason?  It lets its victim work with it.  It depends on the struggling of its victim to achieve its end result, which is often quite gruesome.  Here’s a description by Rosemary Groom, from her blog at Wildlife Direct:

Snares are hard to find and thus hard to control. Snares are wasteful – poachers often set them and then fail to check them, resulting in the death of animals which end up just rotting in the bush. Finally, snares are inhumane. Animals are caught in snares when they put their head, or a limb through the wire noose, which then pulls tight as the animal attempts to escape. The animal then dies through asphyxiation or through dehydration. In many cases, animals manage to break the snares, leaving them to walk around with a cutting ligature on a limb, or dragging a broken branch to which the snare was attached.

A lion caught in a snare – an unnecessary waste

Even when the snare is broken, it can still cause pain if the animal carries it around, or can’t get completely free.

So why did my eyes open a little wider pondering all this?    For one, it seemed as if the Psalmist was recognizing the pain when he writes “the snare was broken.”  For some of us, spiritually, this can be a painful process.  We panic, we struggle- even when someone is trying to help us.  The struggle may even occur after we have escaped- the memory of a painful event can stick with us, sometimes overwhelming us again, until it seems like we are right back in the heart of the snare.

“And we have escaped” reads like a sigh of relief.  One can imagine the bird spreading its wings, finding use for them again, in essence realizing once again, instinctively, that it can do what it was meant to do, and be who it was meant to be.

I pray the Lord releases us each and every day, that we may truly be who we are meant to be, in His eyes.

Free Bird: Fractal Art

The Dangers of Bible-Thumpin’

A great post on Scripture and how it is used (and abused) by Christians.  Here’s to all the “Second Christians” out there.

“Sunday:” Why do we go to Church?

Interesting that I am attending two significantly different churches at the moment: Emmanuel Episcopal, a low church Epsicopalian congregation, and Discovery Church, a contemporary worship, non-denominational church.  Both have a significantly different approach to liturgy, but this week, at Discovery’s Young Professionals Group (a focus group for Christians in their 30s), and during Father Malcolm’s homily at Emmanuel, the two converged on the subject of the relevancy of church in our lives as Christians.  Is church something you just “do” once a week, out of habit or expectation?  How do we live and love Christ with our whole heart when it just boils down to empty ritual after a while?

Father Malcolm emphasized our liturgy in the Episcopal Church as a “means, not an end.”  They are there to ground us in the ineffable mystery of God, to bring us closer to the Divine in a physcial, methodical way.  Unless we carry within us that desire to be closer to God, it is empty, and bereft of meaning.  In a similar way, if we do not carry that desire with us beyond the walls of the church, if we do not try to see Christ in all things and in every person, then our live as Christians become empty as well.

At Discovery, we had the opportunity to watch and discuss Rob Bell’s Nooma video “Sunday.”  Below I’ve nicked part one and two of the episode from Youtube:

“Holy Scriptures:” Reflections on George MacDonald 25

This story may not be just as the Lord told it, and yet may contain in its mirror as much of the truth as we are able to receive, and as will afford us scope for a life’s discovery.  The modifying influence of the human channels may be essential to God’s revealing mode.

It was one of those nights last night when I wasn’t exactly in the mood for a three hour theological debate, but it happened anyway.  A good friend of mine and I had a bit of an argument that opened up some old wounds.  In the midst of coming to peace with that, we got on a tangent on how our respective views of the world color our thinking.  It’s no secret to my friend that I am a Christian, and in his frustration, he said, pointing to my Bible, “Doesn’t it bother you that none of it is even true.  That it’s all just stories someone made up?”

Oh, boy.  Now this is where my problem of reading more than conversing comes into play.  I hear these words “true” and “stories,” and immediately my mind is abuzz with articles, essays, books, and podcasts that I’ve absorbed on these two words.  I try valiantly to remember my reflections on those essays in which I put those articles, etc. into my spiritual context as a Christian.  Merton, Bell, Norris, Aquinas, Feiler, Underhill, the conflicting doctrines of Protestantism, Orthodoxy, and Catholicism, the Cloud of Unknowing- all dancing in my head as I face the increasingly annoyed and aggravated gaze of my friend.

Did I tell you that at this point it was 1 AM?  It was 1 AM.

So my mind wasn’t exactly primed and prepped for this discussion, and of course I fell flat on my face.  We ended up having a rather garbled interchange on the nature of truth and the need for comforting fictions to keep us in line- ah, can hardly remember, really.  I do remember at one point admitting, “Look, I just don’t know.  But I’m convinced it is worth it.  There’s something there.  I just don’t know what.”  Yeah, put that in your theological pipe and smoke it.

So this quote of George MacDonald resonates with me.  It probably got him into a bit of trouble- there’s always the literalists out there, and they usually have the loudest voices, ready to defend “The Book.”  But he’s admitting something terribly important to our faith as Christians.  “[Scripture] will afford us scope for a life’s discovery.”  In other words, it’s enough for what it can impart- words that describe the nearly indescribable.  We don’t bow down to it, we don’t worship it, but it is a text that tries to convey the unfathomable mystery of God.

Kathleen Norris, in her book Amazing Grace, continues this thought:

It is a mystery, a matter of faith in something that can’t be explained or understood, at least not in our conditional human speech.  Silence is the best language for it- “the silence of eternity interpreted by love” (quote by Whittier).  She later goes on describe how Christians can say “yes,” about what they believe: “Answered in the spirit of hope, not that other people of faith will come around and see things my way, but in the conviction that the incarnation of Jesus is powerful enough to live up to its name and will work to the good of all people despite all our groaning, quibbling, and squabbling over terminology.”

It’s not really about the Bible, ultimately, but what happens when that follower of Jesus lifts their eyes from the page and looks out at the world.  Are they able to see and hear the word of God in their interactions with their neighbors and enemies, in the soft breeze that gently flows by them, in the darkness of a night lit by only one lamp, with a frustrated friend sitting on the couch?  Are we ready for discovery through human channels?  Are we open to the experience of word?

Congratulations, President Obama!!

“No Comparing:” Reflections on George MacDonald 20

Here there is no room for ambition.  Ambition is the desire to be above one’s neighbor; and here there is no possibility of comparison with one’s neighbor: no one knows what the white stone contains except the man who receives it… Relative worth is not only unknown- to the children of the Kingdom it is unknowable.

A note of context before we begin: the “white stone” that MacDonald refers to alludes to Revelation 2:17 (”He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches.  To him who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone which no one knows except him who receives it.”)  MacDonald notes that each of us gets a “white stone” from God, that expresses, in Him, our deepest identity and meaning.

We like ambition in the United States.  We need ambition now- the drive to get this country moving again, to recover what’s been lost- sense of unity and hope.  But it’s necessary to define the first word in this reflection: “Here.”

What “here,” is MacDonald talking about?  When ambition is “the desire to be above one’s neighbor,” it is an ambition based on the Self.  What “I” want, what “I” deserve.  Therefore, the “here” that MacDonald speaks of , which has “no room for ambition” must be a place of Non-Self, or a focus to where the Self is not the Center.  This is a “here” in the presence of God.  There is no measure, no “relative worth,” for, as Jack Kerouac once said, “All is precious and holy.”

This is why when Jesus was approached by the mother of the sons of Zebedee, who wanted her two sons to sit at the right and left of Christ in Heaven, he said “You do not know what you are asking.” Later in the passage he spoke to the other disciples: “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them.  It shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave, even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” (Mt. 20: 25-29)

Those who long to be close to God must first let go of the desire to be first among others.  There is no hierarchy of Love with God.  It encompasses all completely and fully.  To desire to have more of the Love than another corrupts that Love, and makes it unattainable.

“No Massing:” Reflections on George MacDonald 19

“There is no massing of men with God.  When he speaks of gathered men, it is a spiritual body, not as a mass.”

Okay, so I realize I’ve let quite a few days slip without posting on MacDonald.  Rather than compiling the bunch that I missed, and trying to make a broad sweeping statement about them all, I’m starting on 19 and saying phooey to the rest.

Besides, this MacDonald reflection hits pretty close to things I’ve been experiencing this week. I caught up with guy I used to work with on Facebook, and then ran into him when I went to a Saturday evening service at Discovery Church.  Now, what compelled me to go to Discovery Church, a so-called mega church in Orlando, is still something I’m grappling with.  Suffice to say I’ve been restless in my spiritual life, and not necessarily looking for something “new,” but wanting to dive a bit deeper into my faith, and have the ability to communicate this with people my own age.

Now, I still call Emmanuel Episcopal home.  They were the church I stumbled on when I was in my deepest need to reconnect back with Christian life and community.  But I am not joking when I say that at 34, I am still one of the few “young people,” at the church, and definitely the youngest person in the choir, the next oldest being in his mid-forties.  Lately, it’s been a small issue.  I still feel so blessed to be a part of that community, and to be a part of the larger Episcopalian community.  For the past couple of years, they have nursed my broken and disjointed faith back to health.  I feel like Emmanuel has been a wonderful incubator for me.  I’m wondering now if it’s not time to start moving out of that space to start breathing on my own.  I could be wrong, so let’s just label it for what it is: a feeling.

Back to Discovery.  For the longest time I’ve been wary of mega churches, and for good reason.  They seemed driven by sheer attendance and not much else.  This is where a majority of the “prosperity gospel” ideas found their home, and why not?  A church with a $1 Million per month budget probably did have something to say about getting rich with the help of Jesus.  In addition, the high-tech “performance” sermons complete with huge video screens, rock bands, and a light show felt more like entertainment than a true reflection of faith.  One of my positions- and I do still hold to this- is that American Christianity would do well to pipe down and reside in God’s silence for a while.  This is why I see the practices of Christian monasticism and mysticism as better paths to a clear, balanced relationship to God than any other way (I realize I’m not being very concise in my words, but this is one of those “ramble posts” that I have about once every couple months).

So why Discovery?  I remember attending the church to hear Shane Claiborne speak on his Jesus for President tour.  Claiborne is/was part of the neo-monastic movement which I read about in addition to my studies of traditional monastic life.  So I had “entered the building” once, and I guess one Saturday night was hungry to do it again for a bit of spiritual refreshment.  It also gets to the point with me that I think “well, if it’s not going to tackle me and rip my head off, why not?”  And lo and behold if they weren’t doing some of the centering prayer techniques I’ve read and practiced from the ancient Desert Fathers.

I attended, and ran into Duncan, who invited me back to a young adults meeting the next Saturday evening.  During the “Young Professionals” meeting, we watched a video by this guy Rob Bell.  Never heard of him before.  Some of you right now are saying “Uh-oh.”  Oh well.  The NOOMA video Dust really resonated with me, and I googled “Rob Bell” and “NOOMA” when I got home, and opened up a whole new can of controversial, worms in the process.  Bell is part of the new “Emergent Church” which wants to radically change the perception and outlook of Christianity in the postmodern era, in order to make it more relevant and “stir up” what they (the Emergent Church) considers a stagnant and disconnected body.  They have a point- church attendance is down across the board, and many see the church as less than inviting, almost to the point of being exclusionary.

This brings us to MacDonald’s quote.  We have indeed become mass and not a body.  And when a Shane Claiborne or a Rob Bell comes along to point this out, the community eats him alive.  I found this great perception contrast on A Mending Shift’s blog:

This is how we view the world:

I believe this is how God views the world:

One my heroes, C.S. Lewis, longed for the “petty divisions” among us to cease.  He wagered that we were still the “early Christians,” giving hope that we are still trying to get that Message, the Message of Christ’s, and therefore God’s, Love right.  We are a hurt, battered, and broken world, and we need to pull together through Him.  We need to lose that disjointed, disorganized mass mentality and reconnect.  Will it ever happen?  It has to.

But I know it will take a while.  We’re imperfect, we struggle, and we’re near sighted.  Feeling a bit overwhelmed and disjointed tonight, I took an evening walk with God, asking Him to open my eyes to see the peace of the night around me, and to dwell in His silence and peace.  As I walked, I passed this tree that to me has always looked like an angel praying in profile: A large, arching group of branches representing a wing, a rounded bit of branches on the lower right representing a bowed head.  It waved a bit in the chilly breeze, but still stood firm, head bowed, in silence except for a few rustling leaves.  It looked like something to emulate.  I kneeled down in the grass by my house, felt my head bend low, my hands fold.  The wind ruffled my hair a bit, and I was still, my body intact and directed toward God.