Rogue Reverend

If I Were the Architect of the Church. A sermon.

This sermon was inspired by a spoken word poem at Ted.com, called Rives Controls the Internet. The sermon, which was done at a rapid pace like spoken word, was followed by communion where the communicants took the phrase, “If I were the architect of the Church” and said how they would make it theirs.

If I were the architect of the new Church, not the old church, we’d have no tired old Sunday school and Training Union and Wednesday night suppers and Stewardship Sundays and Deacons meetings and church councils and capital campaigns and mission trips,

But it’s new church, with love and care and hope and more love and care and hope and then a little more love and care and hope mixed in. The only thing I’d take from the old model is worship and a lot of fried chicken.

If I were the architect of the new Church, no one would get God wrong. In fact, Church wouldn’t tell about God. You would instead tell the Church about the kind of God you serve. And your God would overlap with my God, in some very lovely ways, but it would be okay if your God was different from my God.

If I were the architect of the new Church, the Pastor would no longer be the holder of secrets. You’d never keep to yourself that you’re going to lose your house, that you’d had an abortion, that you’re going through a rough patch in your marriage, that you’re gay, that you’ve lost your job, that you’re waiting on test results, that you’re sad, or lonely. The pastor’s job would be to help you share your secrets. Because the pastor knows that you’re not the only person going through what you’re going through.

If I were the architect of the church, you would know that the balance in your checking account doesn’t determine your worth as a human being.

If I were the architect of the new Church, the budget would read so differently. We’d pay for salaries and space, then we’d have a budget line where everybody wrote about all the wonderful things they were doing with their money so that we would know that our church was making a difference in the world. One person would be feeding the hungry, one person would be digging water wells, one person would be buying cows, and another fixing the ozone layer. Our missions budget would be through the roof, but it would be through your roof, not ours, because it would come out of your budget, not ours, and we’d be changing the world through our actions.

If I were the architect of the church, we wouldn’t mess up our children. We would understand that our kids are going to grow up with some gaps, but as a community, we would help fill those gaps. And when our children became different than us, we’d get to see how great they are, through the eyes of the community, because communities see better than individuals. And when our children grew up and turned back to us, saying, “You messed me up!” we’d smile, know that they needed to say it, apologize, because they need to hear it, and offer ourselves compassion. And we’d extend compassion to our kids.

If I were the architect of the church, we wouldn’t have marketing campaigns, we wouldn’t target people, we wouldn’t need to pay for advertising. There’d be no us and them.

If I were the architect of the new Church, you’d be the expert on theology, on life, and on God.

Oh! Wait!

You already are! But that’s just it, isn’t it? I’m not the architect of the church. You are!

Too Much or Too Little?

2 Corinthians 8:7-15

It’s been an eventful week in the news. Revolution in Iran. The Metro crash in DC. A North Korean ship with a warhead in the Pacific Ocean, headed toward Hawaii. South Carolina’s Governor Sanford having an affair and running off to Argentina. Ed McMahon dead. Farrah Faucett dead. Michael Jackson dead.

As I mentioned, I’m a social media freak. I like facebook, twitter, I blog, read blogs, it’s really hard to get me away from my computer. And the news this week has been dominated by big issues, but the news has been dominated even more about the way people are talking about the things going on. From Sanford’s email love letters being released and read on the evening news, to everyone on Twitter changing their profile pictures to a green tint to support revolution in Iran, to the video of Neda, the young woman killed in a protest (even though she wasn’t protesting) by a single gunshot, a gruesome video that won’t leave my memory. Then the pounding that television and news outlets got after Michael Jackson’s death that left all of them scrambling for verification of untrue rumors. Rumors of other celebrity deaths.

And then the death of the King of Pop. You know, for a couple of hours, they were saying that Michael Jackson’s death might have killed the internet. Servers all over the world were running slow because of people searching for information on his death, and on his life, too, I suppose. The news outlets made hours of programming about it, it dominated the airways.

A friend of mine tweeted (that, for those of you who don’t twitter, is a 140-character (or less) statement about what you’re thinking) with a poll, “Michael Jackson: freak or child molester?” I don’t know about all that, but I do know that Michael Jackson was a product of his environment. He was a product of consumerism. And that’s just it…he was a product. The expectations of our culture made him who he was. And even in his death, we are still both overjoyed and shocked at what we made.

Our culture is driven by this consumerism. Even people fighting for the basic right to live in safety is dulled by our consumeristic drive. Michael Jackson trumps Iran.

You know the Bible says a lot about consumption, don’t you? If we took out everything that the Bible says about economics and the treatment of the poor (especially the widows and the orphans) we’d have very little Bible left. And while we spend hours, days, months, and years arguing the rightness and wrongness of other Bible verses (should we dance? should we allow people who love one another to continue loving one another? should we drink alcohol?) there’s no doubt that we spend very little time on economics and the treatment of the poor.

And our passage today is really about consumption, more than anything else. Let me give you a little background from on our passage:

1. It’s a letter written to the church in Corinth, who Paul has a very close relationship to. In fact, he’s sort of the father of their faith.
2. The church in Corinth is a socially and ethnically diverse congregation, and is pretty unified.
3. Paul is taking a collection from the Church in Corinth for the “saints in Jerusalem,” or the “poor in Jerusalem.”
4. The final sentence in the passage, “As it is written, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little,” is a direct quote from Exodus, when the Hebrew people were complaining about not having enough food, and God began providing manna for them.
5. This passage is centered around the term “grace,” or charis, even though our translation doesn’t make that clear. Verse 7 and 9. Charis is understood to be given by God to people, in the midst of affliction and poverty. It’s given abundantly. God’s grace is powerful and moves the recipients to a reflection of God’s abundance so that they respond profusely by doing good works toward others.

Let’s look at the passage again.

For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has–not according to what one does not have. I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance. As it is written, “The one who had much did not have too much, and the one who had little did not have too little.”

I spent a little time this week thinking about my own consumption. I watched as I spent more and more money. I thought about how to not buy branded stuff (do you realize that you can’t do that? Even buying local is branded these days, by Farm Bureau, with their big signs on the highways.

I thought about giving away my stuff. Keeping it moving. But, honestly, I couldn’t see why anyone would want the stuff I have to give away!

I’m going to make an assumption. American is still the richest country in the world.

So here’s a question: Are the richest people in the world be inclined to be giving?

And is Paul talking just about money?

Paul says, “the gift is acceptable according to what one has.”

What do we have? We have freedom. We have wealth. We have water. We have food. We have security. We have the rule of law. We have the right to self-rule.

But doesn’t it also mean that those who live in poverty, in fear, in insecurity, in hunger, in thirst, that they should share what they have? They have culture, and religion, and God, in some way, and persecution, and injustice, and sickness. Should not they also share so that we would not have too little?

You know, I look back on the life of Michael Jackson, and what I see is someone who had great expectations put upon him for his music. But also very low expectations for his behavior. He had a ton of money, but very little responsibility. He was treated like a child, and he remained a child for his fifty years.

We have been given grace from God. Remember, charis is understood to be given by God to people, in the midst of affliction and poverty. It’s given abundantly. God’s grace is powerful and moves the recipients to a reflection of God’s abundance so that they respond profusely by doing good works toward others.

So the task that I’ll leave you with this week is to think, think hard about your relationship to money. Does having more make you want more? Or does having more leave you open-handed, giving so that those who have little will not have too little? Think about your relationship to other things that you have in excess: your time, freedom, health, security. Can you spend time giving so that others can have a little more time?

Gandhi said, “As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, you should keep it.  If you were to give it up in a mood of self-sacrifice or out of a stern sense of duty, you would continue to want it back, and that unsatisfied want would make trouble for you.  Only give up a thing when you want some other condition so much that the thing no longer has any attraction for you, or when it seems to interfere with that which is more greatly desired.”

A young man came to the ashram where Gandhi was and said, “I want to join the ashram, but I can’t give up my books.” Gandhi said, “Then don’t give up your books. When something comes along that’s better than books, then you’ll give them up.”

It is, in other words, find something that you love, more than money, more than freedom, more than time, more than security. Isn’t that they point?

What Does Money Mean?

The worst part about the new economy: if money determines our worth, then we’re all in trouble!

I love this post from Chelsea G. Summers at pretty dumb things. And, by the way, if you’re not reading her blog, you really should. She rocks.

Chelsea writes:

Reviewing my past week, my feelings of wafer-thin vulnerability, my spiraling feelings of loss, my cringing self-doubt, and my choices on how to take care of myself, I wonder what it is I think I’m worth—or not. I feel a tremendous burden of shame over screwing this money poodle so badly, a burden that’s probably disproportionate to paying $135 in overdraft fees. That’s because money, how much there is, how easily I make it, where it comes from, and what I spend it on is such a potent symbol for how I view myself. I’m probably not much different from anyone else in that respect. It’s one of the reasons why we are so reticent to share the crunchy numbers with others, and why we ask what something costs in lowered voices, the voice we usually reserve for sexually transmitted diseases and madness.

I’m going to be a Pollyanna and see my willingness to show my shameful pecuniary panties in public, my choice to air them out and scrutinize my financial skid marks, as a sign that maybe I’m starting to change. Maybe I’m becoming someone who can see herself as being both worth more and more worthy of better care.

I’m going to follow Chelsea G. Summer’s lead, and recognize that my worth is not in my checkbook. And that I am successful regardless of what’s in my savings account. I’m going to remember that I value something more than money.

And I hope you do (will!) to!

Anam Cara

I decided today to get the website active, whether or not it’s ready. Why? Because I miss blogging. Many interesting (to me, at least) strands in the tapestry of my life have been threaded this week, and I just need somewhere to say it.

First, on the job front. I’m still wondering what’s next for me, following Star Light. I live in this strange dichotomy: the feeling that I’m supposed to preach, and the struggle that I really don’t like the institutionalized church. Not a whole lot of preaching that takes place in the corporate world.

Second, on the calling front. Are calling and job different? Well, yeah, perhaps. My friend Mart says that we should follow Paul’s (notice the shivers going up my spine) example and be tentmakers. From Acts 18:2-3, “Paul went to see them, 3and because he was a tentmaker as they were, he stayed and worked with them.”

A friend recommended that I begin to see myself as an Anam Cara:

In Celtic Spiritual tradition, it is believed that the soul radiates all about the physical body what some refer to as an aura. When you connect with another person and become completely open and trusting with that individual, your two souls begin to flow together.

Should such a deep bond be formed, it is said you have found your “Anam Cara” or soul friend.

Your “Anam Cara” always accepts you as you truly are, holding you in beauty and light. In order to appreciate this relationship, you must first recognize your own inner light and beauty. This is not always easy to do. The Celts believed that forming an “Anam Cara” friendship would help you to awaken your awareness of your own nature and experience the joys of others.

The “Anam Cara” was originally someone to whom you confessed, revealing the hidden intimacies of your life. With the “Anam Cara”, you could share your innermost self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an “Anam Cara”, your friendship cut across all convention, morality and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the “friend of your soul”. The Celtic understanding did not set limitations of space or time on the soul.

This art of belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship. When you love, you open your life to an Other. All your barriers are down. Your protective distances collapse. This person is given absolute permission to come into the deepest temple of your spirit. Your presence and life can become their ground. It takes great courage to let someone so close. Where a friendship recognizes itself as a gift, it will remain open to its own ground of blessing….. When you are blessed with an “Anam Cara”, the Irish believe, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home. This bond between friends is indissoluble: “This, I say, is what is broken by no chances, what no interval of time or space can sever or destroy, and what even death itself cannot part”.

~ from “Anam Cara…Wisdom from the Celtic World“, by John O’Donohue

And third, on the money front. Can anyone teach me how to get paid to be an Anam Cara?

I’m glad to be back!