Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” John 20:17.
Yesterday a friend sent me little attachment on Facebook Messenger. "Don't Touch Grandma" (Youtube.com) is a goofy social distancing type song composed and performed by Jimmy Fallon and Adam Sandler. Obviously recorded from separate locations (thanks to technicians who easily knit things together digitally) is a touching tribute to the grandmas who are an at-risk commodity in these days of corona pandemic
This is apparently an issue of considerable import these days. I say apparently because in the early days of Corona threat I had taken a slightly casual approach to being careful around the elderly. Three weeks ago when our son and his family arrived from a world tour to quarantine in our home, my wife and I were elated, thrilled that we would have 14 days of uninterrupted quality time with our beloved who had been adventuring all winter! We discovered immediately that an almost family spat had preceded this. There was some strong feeling between them and our other children about whether it was appropriate for them to land in our home and possibly expose us, their mom and dad, to whatever they might have caught abroad. Needless to say my own light-heartedness continued, but it was more along the line of being willing to die for the sheer pleasure of having kids around! As we listened to daily reports we all began to realize our love for one another cannot ignore a new reality about how to be with one another.
So, new attention to an often read and familiar scripture. Mary Magdalene, the steadfast follower of Jesus has a full-on first time experience with the beloved ribbouni, or teacher. The immediate response of Jesus upon her discovery of his risen presence is like "Hold off. Don't touch". We have the sheer delight of resurrection, along with immediate introduction of a new way. There is something here, something I probably would not have noticed, had it not been for the current pandemic. There is a new restriction, a new caution, a new reality. Do not resort to old lovey dovies, but accept a new way of love.
A new way of love. Abby Norman, a pastor in Atlanta, GA in her Easter message, also agrees that the pandemic reveals a new breath on this scripture. She says she never much thought about that damper on the joyous reunion. "Now," she says, "it is all I can think about. This year, those details that someone is here ... but no you cannot touch him, have become so real to me." (Sojo,net). We can leave notes on the sidewalk, she says, wave from car windows, we can call and we can text. But we cannot physically hold on to one another.
A new way of love and new unknowns. In a brief communique yesterday with the office secretary of our church I realize I had that awareness, "After this is over our church will never be the same", so I typed. Old habits are dying hard of course. The smart alecks, the deflectors (in trucker language, read bullshitters), the know-it-alls, the coffee shop politicians now relegate binary opinions to social media. Uneducated busybodies will always be there, as Jesus encountered every day of his life (see John 1:14).
It will be different, yes, but also the old continues. Jesus knows that Mary Magdalene is by far the best one to communicate with those wimpy disciples who are cowering in a room somewhere. "But go to my brothers" he says to her. Oh, and I also notice Jesus still appreciates those real conversations even with those failed disciples - note his conversation with Thomas just a bit later in this chapter (20:24-29 Sure read it right now). Yup, praise God here is a message for all my failed friends here, there, and everywhere. I think of trucker buddies who have cried with me bitter tears because of lost communication, failed marriages, daughters who will not speak to them, children in jail, etc. etc. I think of cowering fellow church members who are ashamed of themselves but feel compelled to at least show up in church occasionally but cannot be honest with themselves (church version of the bullshitters). Jesus lovingly instructs Mary Magdalene to go lightly with the touching, but also gives her the life-giving assignment to "go tell the others". I see here the crystal clear invitation to speak humbly and modestly about this sacred learning that is unfolding right before us.
People yearn for touch, yes, but clamor for a spoken Word. Here is a huge challenge to the preachers of this day. Even as you speak to an empty church building you are speaking to a world listening. Please honor your sacred trust. You must become reflective and open and there is nothing wrong with self-identity as one of those cowering disciples. Lift up your eyes and see Mary Magdalene coming with the news. He lives! He lives! So to all of us, whether we're entertainers like Jimmy Fallon or Adam Sandler, whether the profession is preacher or trucker or scientist or artist or carpenter, essential worker or freshly unemployed, whether indigenous, black, white or yellow, Muslim, Sikh, agnostic (yes you too my friend), Jewish or Christian (diligent Mennonite or born again Bible thumper or ecumenical variety) it matters not!! It's a new day, and as my straight talking dairy farmer sister just said, we may all croak soon. 😏 But I say Jesus has the same message for all of us.
Of course for a while now we can not shake hands and hug and
greet in our gatherings. However; there's Mary coming your way with that news about the resurrected Savior.
Sunday, April 12, 2020
Tuesday, April 7, 2020
Holy Week Battle
Holy Week has a bit of a hold on me. This week just before Easter with its ominous music and myriads of memories has also a tinge of celebrativeness to it. A bit like Christmas, but in my mind even more important. Not everybody seems to agree with me on this. My perspective has its beginning probably because I grew up in the Old Colony Church where form and tradition was the reality. Easter, Christmas, and Pentecost each had three days of celebration - first, second, and third heilgetag, all three complete with mandatory church services, except in our home my parents becoming a bit free thinking declared 'third holiday' was optional. So three times a year we had three days of holiday! You just knew something important had happened somewhere. Easter was the heavy-weight in my mind because it was preceded by Stille Freitag - quiet Friday, when Jesus had died! Even our farmyard Easter Egg hunts in the cool spring mornings had an air of reverence about them.
Alongside these traditions there was also the exploration of large questions, at least for an inquisitive one like me, so said my dad. I had questions like who is God and how does one become a Christian and why is this spoken about kind of differently in the various churches in our mostly Mennonite community? Some of those churches gave greater attention to my personal faith experience than on how many holidays were deemed appropriate or necessary. I soon opted for this more personalized approach, no surprise to my parents. That of course became my mode operandi as I entered Bible College, University, summer jobs, ever since.
So it is that this ever-querying young adult student, needing summer employment, repeatedly got involved in the world of trucks and even after the eventual call to pastoral ministry, several extended periods in long-haul transportation. In that secular world I would always make every effort to get Easter off. Deep down in my soul this was important to me. My faith then and now includes much thoughtfulness about Jesus in the Good Friday Easter event. Many conversations with fellow evangelicals, in church or in trucking circles, would of course celebrate that God is available equally each and every day, no need for special days or times or seasons. It even says so in the Bible (Galatians 4:10). Yes, true, but ... nonetheless. Nonetheless.
Looking back now, I can see that my faith journey, including the education years, the clinical training, the ministry positions and, yes the trucking years, has always had a need of the Church Year. In my pastoral ministry I always preferred lectionary-based worship rather than sermon series, or even worse, pastors' hobby horses. It is within the long distance truck trips - home away from home - that I realized my christian commitment has its source in Jesus and undeniably what was endured and accomplished during this week of all weeks.
Just yesterday, in Facebook conversation with a friend, I responded to her sharing of a link, "Largest Choir Ever to sing Hallelujah Chorus." My thumbs-up response including comment "He shall reign forever and ever!" was met with her suddenly au contraire reply, "Well if that's your paradigm, I guess so". Shocked was I. Why forward a holy item like this and then disown it? Needless to say that was followed with some exchange, and then dropped. I realized she is unmoved by that which moves me.
This reminds me of another incident two months ago. I had made application to a seminary to pursue some post-grad studies (Yes, this workaholic still having a little retirement problem). Application submitted along with lots of supportive documents, and then 'Admittance Interview', which I bombed! I was unable to engage the interviewers in the research project which I had envisioned - a study of Messiah Search in Judeo-Christian, Muslim, and Indigenous. In hindsight I realize I was perhaps too enthused about the idea and also too grandiose. However, in my mind the needed refinement and adjustments could commence with the help of a faculty advisor. Instead they switched me off because it "sounded like a sermon". Aah I'm still wondering whether they have listened to any sermons recently.
Religion and faith practice in today's society must be non-judgmental, open-minded and inclusive. Inter faith education and dialogue is essential for civilized beings. However, I also am learning that our dialogues or ecumenical events cannot merely be an agreement to be nice or academic and meet in the nether middle somewhere. Nope! Quality inter-relationships always depend on participants fully 'owning' what they believe. I have Muslim friends who are shocked at our Santa Clauses and Easter Eggs and commercialized 'holy' weekends. My understanding of God-among-us religion hinges on an experience with the One who did Holy Week. Not easily done away with!
My wife and I have disagreements, and sometimes even arguments, during our morning Bible read. Apparently I get too excited about an insight or inspiration and then don't leave room for her pondering. This happens! Different personalities, male - female, we encounter God in different ways, as do many denominations within the Christian faith. At the same time, I believe it behooves us that it's not just a matter of discussing religion in a nice quiet manner. Holy Week is case in point. Once upon a time Jesus walked the lonely Passion. To ignore that is to lose the essence.
I learned that in a very traditional church when I was a kid. I still need Holy Week, and so do all my post-modern peers.
Alongside these traditions there was also the exploration of large questions, at least for an inquisitive one like me, so said my dad. I had questions like who is God and how does one become a Christian and why is this spoken about kind of differently in the various churches in our mostly Mennonite community? Some of those churches gave greater attention to my personal faith experience than on how many holidays were deemed appropriate or necessary. I soon opted for this more personalized approach, no surprise to my parents. That of course became my mode operandi as I entered Bible College, University, summer jobs, ever since.
So it is that this ever-querying young adult student, needing summer employment, repeatedly got involved in the world of trucks and even after the eventual call to pastoral ministry, several extended periods in long-haul transportation. In that secular world I would always make every effort to get Easter off. Deep down in my soul this was important to me. My faith then and now includes much thoughtfulness about Jesus in the Good Friday Easter event. Many conversations with fellow evangelicals, in church or in trucking circles, would of course celebrate that God is available equally each and every day, no need for special days or times or seasons. It even says so in the Bible (Galatians 4:10). Yes, true, but ... nonetheless. Nonetheless.
Looking back now, I can see that my faith journey, including the education years, the clinical training, the ministry positions and, yes the trucking years, has always had a need of the Church Year. In my pastoral ministry I always preferred lectionary-based worship rather than sermon series, or even worse, pastors' hobby horses. It is within the long distance truck trips - home away from home - that I realized my christian commitment has its source in Jesus and undeniably what was endured and accomplished during this week of all weeks.
Just yesterday, in Facebook conversation with a friend, I responded to her sharing of a link, "Largest Choir Ever to sing Hallelujah Chorus." My thumbs-up response including comment "He shall reign forever and ever!" was met with her suddenly au contraire reply, "Well if that's your paradigm, I guess so". Shocked was I. Why forward a holy item like this and then disown it? Needless to say that was followed with some exchange, and then dropped. I realized she is unmoved by that which moves me.
This reminds me of another incident two months ago. I had made application to a seminary to pursue some post-grad studies (Yes, this workaholic still having a little retirement problem). Application submitted along with lots of supportive documents, and then 'Admittance Interview', which I bombed! I was unable to engage the interviewers in the research project which I had envisioned - a study of Messiah Search in Judeo-Christian, Muslim, and Indigenous. In hindsight I realize I was perhaps too enthused about the idea and also too grandiose. However, in my mind the needed refinement and adjustments could commence with the help of a faculty advisor. Instead they switched me off because it "sounded like a sermon". Aah I'm still wondering whether they have listened to any sermons recently.
Religion and faith practice in today's society must be non-judgmental, open-minded and inclusive. Inter faith education and dialogue is essential for civilized beings. However, I also am learning that our dialogues or ecumenical events cannot merely be an agreement to be nice or academic and meet in the nether middle somewhere. Nope! Quality inter-relationships always depend on participants fully 'owning' what they believe. I have Muslim friends who are shocked at our Santa Clauses and Easter Eggs and commercialized 'holy' weekends. My understanding of God-among-us religion hinges on an experience with the One who did Holy Week. Not easily done away with!
My wife and I have disagreements, and sometimes even arguments, during our morning Bible read. Apparently I get too excited about an insight or inspiration and then don't leave room for her pondering. This happens! Different personalities, male - female, we encounter God in different ways, as do many denominations within the Christian faith. At the same time, I believe it behooves us that it's not just a matter of discussing religion in a nice quiet manner. Holy Week is case in point. Once upon a time Jesus walked the lonely Passion. To ignore that is to lose the essence.
I learned that in a very traditional church when I was a kid. I still need Holy Week, and so do all my post-modern peers.
Friday, April 3, 2020
Corona Community
I just returned from an early morning walk. Walks have been a part of my daily routine these last several years. So nothing new there, except that those excursions now seem to have an added dimension. And when I return to the house those added dimensions become a part of the conversation. "This time I met so and so, and I met these two women. One made a right angled turn off the walkway and avoided even eye contact, the other a friendly greeting even as we keep the two meter distance".
These variations happen each day. A family walks by with three squirmy kids and I greet them all, and I get happy replies. An old man walks with slow careful steps - no greeting; shortly thereafter another man and he comes complete with a full-face grin and a cheery greeting and tribute to the gorgeous morning. Joggers come by either with athletic concentration or a cheery wave; same with the winter cyclists. Nothing all that noteworthy here? It is but par for the variety of my neighbors and their activity. So what is it? The difference, the added dimension, is probably me. The difference seems to be that I am now making note. Before this Corona awareness I also took walks - in addition to acquasize three times weekly. Those walks included seemingly no people watching - at least not consciously so. In the earlier walks my mind was occupied with other things - happenings going on immediately before or after. Now the 'walk in the park' is one of the distinctive and few things I do each day. And now the smile or wave of fellow social distancers is a significant thing.
Similarly in our homes, I think. For the past two weeks we have had our son and daughter-in-law and their two kids with us. My wife and I became the beneficiaries of the required 14 day quarantine after they returned home early from their trip around the world. We have been delighted - no one with greater pleasure than grandma cooking and baking and feeding and talking and ... also an awareness that this is different. Each day includes considerable time in front of the TV getting the latest from our Prime Minister and the World Health Organization and some news updates. Even while one of us is glued to the News several of us want a bit of break, so out comes Solitaire or Facebook or a game or a noisy discussion with grandkids about how much time on the device - except we have limited suggestions as to what else they might do. Options, different ways of being at home with one another because this is after all, quarantine.
I am reminded of a topic I encountered myriads of times when making pastoral visits. After a significant telling of an incident - either happy or sad - there would be opportunity to reflect on what we might make of it (choices) - and often followed by the expected Bible references like Philippians 4: 4-9 or Matthew 6: 33-34 or maybe even an empathic reference to Romans 7:15, I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. Within pastoral conversation there is usually acknowledgement that life is more than good choice or bad choice, but how to live in and among the circumstances, all things considered.
Choices are more than the decision I make. Although decision-making is an important life skill, it is also important to see choices in context of others' choices or life circumstance. I think I am learning this by osmosis as I walk in the park or spend time in quarantine with family members in my house. Other people's choices have an impact on us. It behooves us to recognize and accept others for the choices they are making, very likely impacted by whatever circumstance they are in.
As a Christian I continue to appreciate my faith community, the Anabaptists, who emphasize that faith is best practiced in community of believers. "No man is an island", said a trappist theologian Thomas Merton (in 1955, obviously before inclusive language was in vogue 😏). It is more than the personal yin yang, good or bad, happy or sad. Oh, and it's not just about me - a lesson which desperately needs learning by many in today's modern individualistic society.
So, my walks these days require hospitality to fellow walkers dealing with circumstances in their particular situations, AND ALSO realize it's best if we all do what must be done. It is about all of us! Get some exercise and keep at least two meters apart y'all.
These variations happen each day. A family walks by with three squirmy kids and I greet them all, and I get happy replies. An old man walks with slow careful steps - no greeting; shortly thereafter another man and he comes complete with a full-face grin and a cheery greeting and tribute to the gorgeous morning. Joggers come by either with athletic concentration or a cheery wave; same with the winter cyclists. Nothing all that noteworthy here? It is but par for the variety of my neighbors and their activity. So what is it? The difference, the added dimension, is probably me. The difference seems to be that I am now making note. Before this Corona awareness I also took walks - in addition to acquasize three times weekly. Those walks included seemingly no people watching - at least not consciously so. In the earlier walks my mind was occupied with other things - happenings going on immediately before or after. Now the 'walk in the park' is one of the distinctive and few things I do each day. And now the smile or wave of fellow social distancers is a significant thing.
Similarly in our homes, I think. For the past two weeks we have had our son and daughter-in-law and their two kids with us. My wife and I became the beneficiaries of the required 14 day quarantine after they returned home early from their trip around the world. We have been delighted - no one with greater pleasure than grandma cooking and baking and feeding and talking and ... also an awareness that this is different. Each day includes considerable time in front of the TV getting the latest from our Prime Minister and the World Health Organization and some news updates. Even while one of us is glued to the News several of us want a bit of break, so out comes Solitaire or Facebook or a game or a noisy discussion with grandkids about how much time on the device - except we have limited suggestions as to what else they might do. Options, different ways of being at home with one another because this is after all, quarantine.
I am reminded of a topic I encountered myriads of times when making pastoral visits. After a significant telling of an incident - either happy or sad - there would be opportunity to reflect on what we might make of it (choices) - and often followed by the expected Bible references like Philippians 4: 4-9 or Matthew 6: 33-34 or maybe even an empathic reference to Romans 7:15, I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. Within pastoral conversation there is usually acknowledgement that life is more than good choice or bad choice, but how to live in and among the circumstances, all things considered.
Choices are more than the decision I make. Although decision-making is an important life skill, it is also important to see choices in context of others' choices or life circumstance. I think I am learning this by osmosis as I walk in the park or spend time in quarantine with family members in my house. Other people's choices have an impact on us. It behooves us to recognize and accept others for the choices they are making, very likely impacted by whatever circumstance they are in.
As a Christian I continue to appreciate my faith community, the Anabaptists, who emphasize that faith is best practiced in community of believers. "No man is an island", said a trappist theologian Thomas Merton (in 1955, obviously before inclusive language was in vogue 😏). It is more than the personal yin yang, good or bad, happy or sad. Oh, and it's not just about me - a lesson which desperately needs learning by many in today's modern individualistic society.
So, my walks these days require hospitality to fellow walkers dealing with circumstances in their particular situations, AND ALSO realize it's best if we all do what must be done. It is about all of us! Get some exercise and keep at least two meters apart y'all.
Monday, March 30, 2020
Corona Conference
Social distancing has become the byword everywhere. Among the anxiety and quick analyses accompanying our Covid-19 pandemic, there are surprises. And some of those surprises provide an occasional moment of levity or even inspiration in newscasts, in social media, and also among the conversations and emails and phone calls from within our homes. Our Prime Minister repeats it every time he appears to speak, "Stay home. That is the greatest favor you can do for yourself, your neighbors, your country".
This last Saturday I experienced what I would describe as surprise. It came in the form of relief, and in fact inspiration right here at my laptop, in my little office in the corner of our bungalow in Midnapore, SE Calgary! I am a part of a small grouping of Mennonite churches in Alberta. An annual conference meets once a year, usually in spring, to report on ongoing work, hear a financial statement and approve a budget, elect a slate of committee members, and hear a biblical based message or two for the guidance or inspiration of the gathered faithful. This year's sessions had been planned for March 21 - 22, to be held in Edmonton. Those sessions were cancelled along with every other public gathering one week prior. And then the big announcement; a virtual conference would be held the following week, and it would be a first. It would be a digital gathering utilizing the services of Zoom. Many of us had had some introduction to Zoom for an occasional consultation or group meeting, but never a province-wide official decision making assembly.
Surprise! Inspiration! Instructions appeared in group emails, registrations rolled in, more instructions and even a test meeting the day before. On March 28 we began to appear on screen! At 10:30 a.m. start time our moderator announced a gallery of 83 cheery chatty faces whom she welcomed and muted as the meeting came to order. Quorum easily achieved, and then followed three hours of the most focused and efficient decision-making I have ever witnessed - and I have attended many of these over the years. Gone were the long sometimes slightly off-topic speeches from some floor mike. Gone were the committee reports sometimes presented by a boring chairperson whose first gift was not public speaking. Gone were all the distractions; only the cheery, pleasant face of our moderator as we moved crisply from item to item - an obvious pioneering unanimity of purpose even as we played with our new electronic ballots dutifully screen-presented by our communications coordinator! I actually enjoyed myself.
Thus happened the 2020 Corona Conference as I shall name it. Now here is a confession of sorts. I am one of the critics of digital communications. I occasionally rant about millennials these days who hardly ever go to meetings, shoot emails around like flies in the room, and they believe this is communication! Many of our trendy pastors and committee members don't even know there is something missing here. Yes, I lament the absence of 'quality communication' these days. Hebrews 10:24-25 rolls off my tongue easily, 24 And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, 25 not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing.
Even so, Corona Conference had a lesson for me. There is a way of doing God's work that does not necessarily require a day's drive north, south, east or west to the gathering church, eating noisy meals, singing sentimental songs and then gossiping in the hallways until we are hoarse, and then lamenting this or that idea or person as we drive home in our gas guzzling (or energy efficient!) cars or pickup trucks. Yes, once we were the farmers of Alberta, but now we are an urban rural multicultural Mennonite conference. For all of us, our worshiping and our living is in a new day. Therefor I cannot even say that this was a better way of doing conference, but I do know this was creative and a most excellent way of doing that which needed doing right now AND we actually discovered some dynamics which may be very useful for the future of our faith community.
Now, if you will indulge, just a bit more. Seems to me we are kind of modernizing traditionalists. Even as we adapt to new ways of doing things we need much discernment. And while we do that a danger lurks (read 1 Peter 5:8). A theological consumerism can creep in to the extent that we become dependent on the convenience of comfortable sermons by well salaried preachers, churches looking to pay staff' to do the work which used to be accomplished by faithful volunteers - ie the most convenient cost-effective way of 'doing business'. New conveniences can make for lazy theologians.
I have a book in my bookshelf written by a longtime United Church Minister, now deceased, Rev Floyd Howlett, Beyond Churchianity (2003). Writing about his 30 plus years of experience as a missionary in Japan, he describes his growing conviction that Church is not necessarily the complete description of what God is about in this world. I agree with him, hoping and praying that our way of 'doing church' may always have that same awareness. God's ways are beyond our traditions and labels - beyond churchianity for sure (More on that in another post soon).
Christians are called to be a corrective to many societal trends which can only be labeled as self-absorbed and sinful. If we will heed this high calling of God we must take advantage of creative ways to spur ourselves and our neighbors on to love and good works. We did that in a commendable way last Saturday. My hope is that this was not a first step in the direction of no more annual conferences.
A test is coming just around the corner. We will need to participate in the Corona recovery.
This last Saturday I experienced what I would describe as surprise. It came in the form of relief, and in fact inspiration right here at my laptop, in my little office in the corner of our bungalow in Midnapore, SE Calgary! I am a part of a small grouping of Mennonite churches in Alberta. An annual conference meets once a year, usually in spring, to report on ongoing work, hear a financial statement and approve a budget, elect a slate of committee members, and hear a biblical based message or two for the guidance or inspiration of the gathered faithful. This year's sessions had been planned for March 21 - 22, to be held in Edmonton. Those sessions were cancelled along with every other public gathering one week prior. And then the big announcement; a virtual conference would be held the following week, and it would be a first. It would be a digital gathering utilizing the services of Zoom. Many of us had had some introduction to Zoom for an occasional consultation or group meeting, but never a province-wide official decision making assembly.
Surprise! Inspiration! Instructions appeared in group emails, registrations rolled in, more instructions and even a test meeting the day before. On March 28 we began to appear on screen! At 10:30 a.m. start time our moderator announced a gallery of 83 cheery chatty faces whom she welcomed and muted as the meeting came to order. Quorum easily achieved, and then followed three hours of the most focused and efficient decision-making I have ever witnessed - and I have attended many of these over the years. Gone were the long sometimes slightly off-topic speeches from some floor mike. Gone were the committee reports sometimes presented by a boring chairperson whose first gift was not public speaking. Gone were all the distractions; only the cheery, pleasant face of our moderator as we moved crisply from item to item - an obvious pioneering unanimity of purpose even as we played with our new electronic ballots dutifully screen-presented by our communications coordinator! I actually enjoyed myself.
Thus happened the 2020 Corona Conference as I shall name it. Now here is a confession of sorts. I am one of the critics of digital communications. I occasionally rant about millennials these days who hardly ever go to meetings, shoot emails around like flies in the room, and they believe this is communication! Many of our trendy pastors and committee members don't even know there is something missing here. Yes, I lament the absence of 'quality communication' these days. Hebrews 10:24-25 rolls off my tongue easily, 24 And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, 25 not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing.
Even so, Corona Conference had a lesson for me. There is a way of doing God's work that does not necessarily require a day's drive north, south, east or west to the gathering church, eating noisy meals, singing sentimental songs and then gossiping in the hallways until we are hoarse, and then lamenting this or that idea or person as we drive home in our gas guzzling (or energy efficient!) cars or pickup trucks. Yes, once we were the farmers of Alberta, but now we are an urban rural multicultural Mennonite conference. For all of us, our worshiping and our living is in a new day. Therefor I cannot even say that this was a better way of doing conference, but I do know this was creative and a most excellent way of doing that which needed doing right now AND we actually discovered some dynamics which may be very useful for the future of our faith community.
Now, if you will indulge, just a bit more. Seems to me we are kind of modernizing traditionalists. Even as we adapt to new ways of doing things we need much discernment. And while we do that a danger lurks (read 1 Peter 5:8). A theological consumerism can creep in to the extent that we become dependent on the convenience of comfortable sermons by well salaried preachers, churches looking to pay staff' to do the work which used to be accomplished by faithful volunteers - ie the most convenient cost-effective way of 'doing business'. New conveniences can make for lazy theologians.
I have a book in my bookshelf written by a longtime United Church Minister, now deceased, Rev Floyd Howlett, Beyond Churchianity (2003). Writing about his 30 plus years of experience as a missionary in Japan, he describes his growing conviction that Church is not necessarily the complete description of what God is about in this world. I agree with him, hoping and praying that our way of 'doing church' may always have that same awareness. God's ways are beyond our traditions and labels - beyond churchianity for sure (More on that in another post soon).
Christians are called to be a corrective to many societal trends which can only be labeled as self-absorbed and sinful. If we will heed this high calling of God we must take advantage of creative ways to spur ourselves and our neighbors on to love and good works. We did that in a commendable way last Saturday. My hope is that this was not a first step in the direction of no more annual conferences.
A test is coming just around the corner. We will need to participate in the Corona recovery.
Friday, March 27, 2020
Into My Room
Many of us are familiar with the parental instruct, "Go to your room and think about what you've done". To those of us hunkering around my age that instruct may seem a little mild, especially on those occasions when in our minds the offense requires a couple of good whacks across the backside! In my day my parents' displeasure was communicated immediately, and 'thinking about it' happened not in the comfort of my room, but in the trauma of repentant (or sometimes angry) tears while the the backside was in recovery mode. In these days of criminalized corporal punishment, I still hold a healthy respect for the way my parents dealt with discipline. And I cheer for today's parents who still command enough authority to send misbehaving ones up to their room to think.
In these last weeks Covid-19 has wreaked havoc worldwide. Among the newscasts and websites providing up-to-the-minute medical and political updates, along with anecdotal trauma especially on social media, my wife discovers a smarty little saying in Facebook.
Indeed. Indeed. Even among the desperate and heroic thoughts and actions, here is an invitation to think. Think not only about survival and vaccines and vocational and financial or military solutions (President Trump, please get real!) but think about what got us here... and perhaps about what needs to be changed.
Sleeperthink was my previous blog. I have changed it to Thoughts from my Room. The sleeper of my truck was the place of creative thinking during the most recent 20 years of my life when I was a long-haul trucker all over the highways and bi-ways of U.S. and Canada. It was a place of insight, often creative, sometimes hilarious, and occasionally profound. It was also a place of spiritual recovery for this burnt out preacher. Although coming from the workaday vantage of a humble (yes occasionally proud) trucker usually typed at the end of about ten hours or 800 km of driving I am amazed at the energy and the enjoyment and, yes, creative insight in those emergent' sleeperthoughts'.
Which nobody read!! Somehow that blogsite did not catch. Everywhere, whether in churches or in watering holes or coffee shops, people clamored for conversations and trucker stories from this preacher, but the Sleeperthink blog site remained a jewel in the ditch.
Thoughts from my Room is the new blog. It is in fact a continuation of same. It is thoughts, many originating during those highway years, but now including a wider vantage. By now they come from an older me or dare I say, elder? The recovery and joy of the open highways will still be included in some posts but also there will be new insights and experiences of this retiring and perhaps more opinionated one! Apparently my societal critiques are becoming a little more strident - and of course causing occasional embarrassment to family and irritation to fellow church members. Not only those trucker years, but also thoughts from one who has difficulty retiring!
"Go to your room" is a necessary and appropriate Coronavirus prescription for this preacher-trucker and probably for everybody else at this time. Elizabeth O'Conner once entitled a book of hers, Journey Inward, Journey Outward (1975). I read that book and found it very helpful in the very peak years of my pastoral ministry. Also I am reminded of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. After all the drama and confrontations with Queen Jezebel and the priests of Baal (read 1 Ki 18) and even after his great victories and adventures he wants to know the Presence. He discovers it finally when he learns to stand quietly at Horeb. The inner journey cannot be ignored. I wrote from my sleeper because I had to. I write now for the same reason. I understand Elijah's need. You spend the first half of your life making your mark, and the second half reflecting (sometimes fussing) on the mark you have not made; so says Richard Rohr in Falling Upward (2011). Somewhere in there is the reason why I had to and still have to write!
My knowledge of the Presence of God requires going to my room, standing or sitting or laying quietly. The days of snappy writing from inside my truck are over, I guess. But thoughts from the room may still be useful. Please stay tuned.
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Response to Ryan
Ryan, Thank you for your ever interesting perspective on many
things, including this latest of North America’s Sunday afternoon
worship service. Indeed it contained the same values ascribed to by most
church goers who showed up in the morning services. It is us, I’m
afraid.
Not only that, but for me this year it followed after Saturday night worship – the Battle of Alberta. The Edmonton Oilers were in town to lay a licken on the Calgary Flames. Worship requires a deliberate decision to cast out or at least avoid evil – in our case it is the city 300 km down or up the QE2 highway. It was long and it was hard and it took 102 minutes of penalty for the Oilers to finally exorcise the Flames!
In hockey we worship at a more basic emotive level with even more speed than your European football. The same immoral business ethics control professional sports at all levels, rabid fans pay the gladiators rather than kill them, and libations provided by the breweries require another tithe from the faithful.
Cynicism aside, I must say there was even a moment of inspiration at Super Bowl which I could almost label ‘Christian’. Yes, I was inspired by the leadership and athleticism of the MVP, Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes, fully guided and supervised by an overweight wisened coach who finally got his Super Bowl championship! It was like a father-son project. No attitude, just respect and skill and seemingly pure motivation.
Just a bit more inspiring than our Battle of Alberta, and perhaps something in there for our modern churches seeking faithfulness (and effectiveness) in and among the young and the elder. Sigh!
Not only that, but for me this year it followed after Saturday night worship – the Battle of Alberta. The Edmonton Oilers were in town to lay a licken on the Calgary Flames. Worship requires a deliberate decision to cast out or at least avoid evil – in our case it is the city 300 km down or up the QE2 highway. It was long and it was hard and it took 102 minutes of penalty for the Oilers to finally exorcise the Flames!
In hockey we worship at a more basic emotive level with even more speed than your European football. The same immoral business ethics control professional sports at all levels, rabid fans pay the gladiators rather than kill them, and libations provided by the breweries require another tithe from the faithful.
Cynicism aside, I must say there was even a moment of inspiration at Super Bowl which I could almost label ‘Christian’. Yes, I was inspired by the leadership and athleticism of the MVP, Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes, fully guided and supervised by an overweight wisened coach who finally got his Super Bowl championship! It was like a father-son project. No attitude, just respect and skill and seemingly pure motivation.
Just a bit more inspiring than our Battle of Alberta, and perhaps something in there for our modern churches seeking faithfulness (and effectiveness) in and among the young and the elder. Sigh!
Cold Comfort
Aug 15, 2014
I wake up in a sweat. It is the middle of the night. I know I have been sleeping because a remnant of latest dream still lingers. My pillow feels like a sponge around my ears, my bed sheet wrapped around my naked legs. It is time to start the truck. I have done this before. It is how I survive these days – half a night with a/c and half a night au naturelle.
As I turn the key my heart turns to gratitude. I am thankful for batteries newly purchased about a month ago, and now serving with confidence (unlike the old ones that occasionally gave me a heart attack when there was only a ‘click click’). And I am so grateful for a recently learned poor man’s air conditioning repair. I charge it up with a can of Freon purchased at a local Walmart or Kmart! Oh, what a welcome discovery these last several weeks. No need to spend hundreds of dollars on A/C repairs that last only a short while anyway!
This morning, however, another thought intrudes itself on ‘the good litany.’ Seems like I remember another variation to this A/C topic! Last evening as I cruised down the highway I was accompanied by air escort! A helicopter was diving and darting behind, aft, and before me – obviously a vehicle of USCBP – probably snuffing out Mexican illegals down in the hot snake infested bushes somewhere. Not only that, but my mind reels on. Yesterday morning back in Laredo I was sitting at McDonalds, when suddenly there was the raised voice of Security, “Hello, Hello, Out!”, and a ragged looking young man gave up on his attempt to grab ice and a cold drink at the fountain machine.
Indeed, even now I further recognize my comparative comfort. I live in an insulated world. I haul temperature controlled produce. I haul it from cool warehouse to cool warehouse, with strict temperature requirements in my load assignments. My job is done within those parameters, and I do it well. I do it in comfort and even with a certain amount of dignity. What if I didn’t have this truck? What if it didn’t work right? (That has happened occasionally and I don’t care to think about that too much). What if I was one of those desperadoes out in the bushes? My heart resonates with what Martin Luther once said, “There but by the grace of God go I”.
Lord I wish I would have at least have handed the guy my cold drink as he wildly beat his escape past my seat at McDonalds. Ooh, my mistake. And some of us have it so good!
I wake up in a sweat. It is the middle of the night. I know I have been sleeping because a remnant of latest dream still lingers. My pillow feels like a sponge around my ears, my bed sheet wrapped around my naked legs. It is time to start the truck. I have done this before. It is how I survive these days – half a night with a/c and half a night au naturelle.
As I turn the key my heart turns to gratitude. I am thankful for batteries newly purchased about a month ago, and now serving with confidence (unlike the old ones that occasionally gave me a heart attack when there was only a ‘click click’). And I am so grateful for a recently learned poor man’s air conditioning repair. I charge it up with a can of Freon purchased at a local Walmart or Kmart! Oh, what a welcome discovery these last several weeks. No need to spend hundreds of dollars on A/C repairs that last only a short while anyway!
This morning, however, another thought intrudes itself on ‘the good litany.’ Seems like I remember another variation to this A/C topic! Last evening as I cruised down the highway I was accompanied by air escort! A helicopter was diving and darting behind, aft, and before me – obviously a vehicle of USCBP – probably snuffing out Mexican illegals down in the hot snake infested bushes somewhere. Not only that, but my mind reels on. Yesterday morning back in Laredo I was sitting at McDonalds, when suddenly there was the raised voice of Security, “Hello, Hello, Out!”, and a ragged looking young man gave up on his attempt to grab ice and a cold drink at the fountain machine.
Indeed, even now I further recognize my comparative comfort. I live in an insulated world. I haul temperature controlled produce. I haul it from cool warehouse to cool warehouse, with strict temperature requirements in my load assignments. My job is done within those parameters, and I do it well. I do it in comfort and even with a certain amount of dignity. What if I didn’t have this truck? What if it didn’t work right? (That has happened occasionally and I don’t care to think about that too much). What if I was one of those desperadoes out in the bushes? My heart resonates with what Martin Luther once said, “There but by the grace of God go I”.
Lord I wish I would have at least have handed the guy my cold drink as he wildly beat his escape past my seat at McDonalds. Ooh, my mistake. And some of us have it so good!
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