Stay Thirsty My Friends

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry; and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” John 6: 35

“Wait a minute,” I thought, “Why would Jesus want to take away our thirst while the psalmist encourages our thirst?”

deer at waterI have to admit that my thoughts immediately went to Psalm 42 when I read our gospel lesson for this Sunday from John. Psalm 42 begins with these words, “As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”

These verses have become some of my favorite lines of the whole Bible in recent years. If, at one time, I was content with my knowledge of God, today I am a jumbled mess of yearning and thirsting and hungering for God. My faith is less marked by certain and solid beliefs than it is with a deep, aching hunger to experience God in all God’s fullness.

sunsetIt is an unquenchable thirsting for God that is at the core of my Christian faith. My mind can be content with exercises in belief, but my soul is often a swirling pot of discontent, yearning, wanting and aching. It’s as if I can never get enough–not enough of God; not enough sunrises and sunsets; not enough squeezes with grandchildren; not enough pure goodness, robust laughter and sacred presence; not enough of the really good stuff.

“Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty,” promises Jesus, and I want to plead, “Please don’t take my thirst away! Please don’t make me satisfied with the blandness of our world! Please don’t dim my ‘hunger and thirst for righteousness!’”

On this issue, I am closer to the sentiment of The Most Interesting Man in the World who, while holding a bottle of Dos Equis, encourages us to “Stay thirsty my friends.” It’s great marketing, but not bad spiritual advice.

Jesus reassures us, “If you believe in me I will take away your hunger and your thirst” and then just as reassuringly offers in the Sermon on the Mount, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness….” I want to ask him, “Do you want us to thirst or not!”

Mr. RogersThis past weekend I joined a movie group to see the documentary, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” about Mr. Rogers (a good Presbyterian pastor!). I am not ashamed to admit that I wept through much of the movie. During the group’s discussion over dinner, I shared my experience of weeping through much of the movie and found myself saying, “I think what struck me most about the movie was the contrast between Mr. Roger’s pure authentic goodness and the reality of our world today. I think my tears were clearly tears of grief over our current political and social climate.”

I was thirsting and yearning for a more innocent time. I was grieving over a lost world. I was hungering for more evidence of a Mr. Roger’s kind of goodness.

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…” says Jesus in Matthew and the psalmist echoes his words, saying, “My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”

Thirst is important. Desire is necessary. Spiritual aching is a sign of health. Hunger is part of the journey.

Yes, someday we will fully meet the Jesus of John’s gospel, and our thirst will be quenched and our hunger will be satisfied. Until then…

“Stay thirsty my friends.” Stay thirsty. Don’t get too satisfied with the world as it is.

“And all of us will worship”

“Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples.” John 6: 3

“When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.” John 6: 15

Mt. EverestA year ago I was just a few weeks from flying off to the Himalayas to study the place that mountains play in religious literature and religious experience. My goal was to ride to Everest Base Camp on my mountain bike with six other adventurous souls.

It doesn’t take a Biblical scholar to recognize that mountains play a significant role in the Bible: Mt. Sinai where the Ten Commandments were received; Mt. Tabor, the apparent site of the Transfiguration; the Sermon on the Mount; and Mt. Zion, among many others. Mountains also play a significant role in Buddhism, Jainism, Hinduism, Islam, and Native American mythologies.

Unfortunately (or maybe, fortunately) the Everest trip became an exercise in survival rather than an opportunity to sit back and study religious experience and literature. The fires in Southern Oregon last summer where I was living at the time completely halted my training a month before, the smoke created an allergic reaction and an ear infection, my bike and equipment didn’t show up in Nepal, and then in my weakened state I ended up with altitude sickness. I did reach my destination, Everest Base Camp, but was physically and psychologically crushed and had no room for the luxury of continuing education research!

But I digress. The gospel lesson for this coming Sunday very casually mentions that Jesus retreated to the mountains twice in the short span of this text—once to be with his disciples and once to get away from everyone else to enjoy some solitude.

What is it about the experience of mountains that seems to find its way into our religious literature? What is about them that draws us to their lofty grandeur in search of spiritual nourishment and sacred experience?

Lake Shot Cascades
The scene at Sparks Lake on the Cascades Lakes Highway

As many of you know, I spent much of July on vacation and one full week in the Cascade Range. On one of the magical hikes walking next to a glacier-fed stream while gazing at a snow-covered volcanic peak, I remember thinking, “This is worship. This is as rich as any Sunday morning experience in church.” When I returned from vacation, I looked up the word worship to see if there was some connection between my revelation that day and the generally accepted definition of worship. I discovered that there was!

One definition was that worship is “the feeling or experience of reverence or adoration…” That was it. What I had felt that day was deep reverence for the beauty of the Cascades, gratitude for the richness of life, adoration for the Maker who was responsible for all this goodness, and pure awe for a landscape that defied normal explanation.

Canyon Creek Cascades
On Three-Fingered Jack overlooking the Canyon Creek Meadows

It gave me a little greater understanding of the spirituality of the Pacific Northwest. It is not uncommon to hear from our religiously unaffiliated family, friends and neighbors that they “meet God on the trail” or while sitting on a rock overlooking civilization 4,000 feet below. Our Pacific Northwest neighbors often say they are “spiritual but not religious” meaning that they find the Sacred in places other than a church building and often in the forests, along the streams, and on top of a mountain.

We are a people who base our lives on a Biblical narrative that witnesses to the presence of God in Jesus Christ.

Some of us this Sunday will go to church to hear about this Jesus withdrawing to the mountain to be by himself. Some of us will just go to the mountain.

And all of us will worship.

The Universal Language

This is the third of three blog posts reflecting on the presbytery and on the General Assembly. I will return to following the lectionary on my July 26 post after I return from vacation.

There is so much that could be shared about the 223nd General Assembly in St. Louis. I am thankful that our commissioners have already stepped into that role with a report to the presbytery, an open space conversation, and a commitment to put a resource list together of the many actions of the General Assembly.

Kachu preaching
The Rev. Ekram Kachu

I just want to share and reflect on one moment, one of the very last moments of the entire General Assembly. The preacher for our closing worship was a woman who was originally from South Sudan and had been ordained only three weeks before as the pastor of First Arabic Presbyterian Church in Waukee, Iowa, just outside of Des Moines.

The Rev. Ekram Kachu had some insightful words to share about being a praying people and trusting God in difficult times. She received a knowing laugh when she spoke of how hard it was to found a non-English speaking church in our tradition, saying, “It’s easier to get to heaven than to be a Presbyterian.” We all chuckled at both the humor and the truth of her comment.

But the moment I really want to share with you is when the Rev. Kachu presided over the Lord’s Table as we all joined together for Communion one last time before boarding flights to destinations all over the world. Quite honestly, the Communion liturgy was fairly traditional. What made it unique was that she decided to offer the words of institution in her native tongue, Sudanese.

breadAs she recited the words, “On the night of Jesus’ arrest…” in Sudanese and broke the bread I was suddenly overtaken by the realization that the universal language is the breaking of bread and the drinking from the cup. I did not recognize any of the words that she was speaking even though I knew exactly what she was saying. But as she spoke in her native tongue I realized that even if she had stood up there completely silent I would have gotten the message. If she had only stood up there, lifted up the loaf, paused for a moment, looked at us with knowing eyes and then broke the bread, I would have heard the message loud and clear. It is the breaking of bread that pulls us together. It is supping from the common loaf and the shared cup that is the universal language.

Last week I attended a lunch meeting to bring Oregon faith leaders together around a new initiative titled The Common Table. The initiative is largely to bring people who are divided along political, social and theological lines together as we negotiate our way through this deeply partisan and divisive time. As we talked about finding our way through this we discovered that even the most basic assumptions that have unified us are now open to question. We dug deeper to find something that could unify us. Finally, the one of my respected colleagues from another tradition spoke up and named it, “We have to start with this—what we are doing today—simply breaking bread together. It is the table that pulls us together.”

I didn’t recognize a single word of the Rev. Ekram Kachu, but I knew the language. I knew the language of breaking bread, sharing the cup, and coming together around a table.

That, my friends, is the universal language.

That, my friends, is our gift to a hurting and divided world.

When a Bridge is not a Bridge

The is the second of three posts reflecting on the presbytery and the General Assembly. I will return to following the lectionary for my July 26 post after I return from vacation.

This post is the result of seeing the following picture at The Way Forward Committee at the General Assembly as they wrestled with the current structure of the General Assembly.

The Choluteca Bridge in Honduras

This is a picture of the Choluteca Bridge in Honduras. This bridge was an engineering feat. Because of the drastic weather, hurricanes and floods that sometimes ravage Honduras this bridge was built to endure even the worst of hurricanes. It took two years to build it and only a few hours to make it useless. It was built between 1996 and 1998. Shortly after it was built in 1998 Hurricane Mitch swept violently across the country causing hundreds of millions of dollars of damage and killing over 7,000 people. It was a Category 5 hurricane–as bad as they come.

But there was good news. The Choluteca Bridge stood the test. After the winds had died down, the rain stopped and the floods dissipated this bridge was one of the only bridges to still be standing completely in tact. The engineers had accomplished a great feat. They had designed a structure that could take the worst that nature could dish out and still stand proud.

But the engineers, despite their ingenuity and brilliance, had not quite outsmarted Mother Nature. They had figured out to how to keep a bridge from tumbling, but they had not figured out how to keep the river from carving a new path. The bridge, which had for a few months allowed people to cross from one side of the river to the other side, now was a bridge that started nowhere and ended nowhere.

But, damn! It sure was a beautiful bridge!

June 29-30 PVM Report to Presbytery

This is the first of three posts reflecting on the presbytery and the General Assembly while I am vacation. I will return to following the lectionary on the July 26 post after I return to the office.

Report to the Presbytery at the June 29-30 stated meeting at First, Salem.

I would like to start by sharing a story I heard during The Way Forward Committee Meeting at this year’s General Assembly in St. Louis.

Apparently, a reporter had asked Desmond Tutu how he had ever come up with a plan to end apartheid in South Africa. Tutu smiled and said, “There was no plan. All we had was a destination and a commitment to start walking.” I share this story with you because I think it reflects this time that we live in as well as how I have been approaching my position as the Presbyter for Vision and Mission. What I am going to report is really just what I have learned from committing to walk our way into a new future.

As of this date I have met with sixty-three of our ninety-six churches. There are another six that I met with prior to this particular wave of visits. I have ten more churches scheduled in July, August and September and another eighteen to still schedule sometime in the fall.

If there has been one thing that has become abundantly clear and that ties us together as the Presbytery it is this: We are a Matthew 25 kind of presbytery and church. Everywhere I have gone, whether small or large, progressive or conservative, all of our churches are marked by a particular commitment to serving “the least among us.”

  • Gold Beach, on the southern Oregon coast is a small congregation yet every week they serve a soup lunch to the vulnerable of their community;
  • There are international missions by churches such as First, Bend; Columbia, Vancouver; and Lake Grove that serve vulnerable communities and populations in Syria, Senegal and Gautamala;
  • Grace in Portland has two dozen or so on Sundays yet they make and deliver forty lunches every Sunday to Prescott Terrace, a transitional housing facility near the church;
  • Central, Eugene and First, Cottage Grove have invested deeply in supporting the homeless through investments in actual housing projects, and;
  • Dozens of our churches provide space to groups and agencies that specifically reach out to “the least of these.”

I have also discovered something about my role. Although it already could have been assumed by reading between the lines of my job description it has become abundantly clear to me that my  role will be to “help the presbytery and our churches negotiate an almost certain (and maybe radical) shift in how we embody Christian spiritual community.” While I do not yet have a clear vision of the future at this point I can tell you that I am getting some glimpses. I have visited enough churches to see some patterns, hear some common concerns and hopes, and catch a glimpse of the kind of questions that will point our way to the future. Here are some themes that I will be following up on in coming months:

  1. I have met with a number of congregations that are asking questions about how they organize themselves and how to honor our polity while they deal with the reality that half of their active participating congregants are not actually “on-the-rolls” members;
  2. A number of congregations are specifically focusing on the question, “How does the specific context of being in the Pacific Northwest affect our ministry commitments and priorities?” These congregations are wondering what it means to serve those who might refer to themselves as “spiritual but not religious” or check the box “None” with regard to religious affiliation on the census.
  3. A number of our congregations have more building than they do ministry. I will be following up with them with conversations about how their building could be viewed as one of their greatest assets for ministry and how it could be re-purposed to serve the community in which they are located;
  4. A couple of congregations are looking a decade down the road and asking, “Could the future be buildingless congregations? Do we need to start planning and preparing for that?” I will be wanting to listen to the conversation and discernment going on in these congregations;
  5. More than half of our congregations are expressing a desire to have some presence and impact on the affordable housing crisis that has left almost no area of Oregon untouched. This is a good opportunity for us to develop partnerships and look to our ecumenical, non-profit and public private partners to solve this issue together;
  6. With the passage of the Vacant Properties Task Force report I will be working directly with our New Ministries Team and the Trustees. We have an amazing opportunity to now imagine and re-imagine potential ministries either utilizing the sites of vacant properties or directing the proceeds from the sale of the properties to re-imagined new ministries and the re-vitalization of our present congregations;
  7. There are a number of our congregations that are negotiating the shifts of their communities quite well. I will want to meet with them, learn from them and find ways to share their stories with the full presbytery.

The third thing that I have discovered is that we are going to have to do this together. I tend to be a person who will shoulder a lot of responsibility, but as I have met with our congregations and gotten a taste of the opportunities and challenges ahead of us I have had to admit to myself, “There is no way I can do this on my own! This is too big for little ole’ me!” This is my way of asking for help. I will promise to walk with you, guide you, support you, pray for you, and try to ask the right questions, but in the end we will need to grab hands and take this journey together—which, it shouldn’t surprise us, sounds pretty Presbyterian.

Finally, let me make a personal plea. The last few days have been troubling to me as it has for many of you as well. If it is true that we are a Matthew 25 kind of church and presbytery then one verse of Matthew 25 is particularly shouting at us right now. Jesus said, “When you welcomed the stranger, you welcomed me.” What I want to encourage you to do is to go back to every one of your congregations and wrestle with this text. I am less interested in where you come out than I am in your intention to sit with this text, pray about it, and listen for what God is saying to you about your commitment to “the stranger and the alien” in your midst.

I truly believe that we are in this moment where history is going to judge us by what we choose to do or choose not to do in this time. God is watching. The community is watching. Go back to your congregations and decide what this text means for you and your congregation, for your neighborhood, for your community and for your national commitments.

I want to express my gratitude for our staff. We have a great group of people who are committed, creative, bright and flexible. I look forward to continuing to work with them in coming years. And again, thank you for the privilege of being able to serve you.

May God bless our unfolding journey.

Eagerness and Energy

“For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has…in order that there may be a fair balance.” 2 Corinthians 8: 12-14

I have titled this short little blog “Eagerness and Energy.” As I said when I first started this Holy Breadcrumbs weekly blog I would write my way into the evolving vision of our presbytery by reflecting weekly on the common lectionary and on the conversations I am having as I visit our various churches. This week’s blog is a perfect example of that approach. I am taking my reflections on “eagerness” from the text from 2 Corinthians and my reflections on “energy” from my church visits.

coin in handI think it is a common understanding among Biblical scholars that the context for this text is an encouragement by the apostle Paul to the church in Corinth to make an offering to the church in Jerusalem in their time of need. But Paul is not just appealing to the Corinthians to do everything they can (and more) to support their Jerusalem brothers and sisters. He is saying, “Look at their need, look at your need and make an offering that honors both fairly.”

There has been much criticism of the American church over the years that we have not given to our brothers and sisters around the world in a way that honors that “fair balance” that Paul is talking about. We have had the luxury of giving out of our abundance, but in a way that requires little of our substance. I do think this is a well-earned criticism. It has been too easy for many of us to simply write a check, pat ourselves on the back, but have no taste of the deprivation or suffering of our brothers and sisters.

peeling paintBut I also think times have changed. And one of the dynamics that I have observed in many of our churches is that their eagerness to do mission has outpaced their energy to do mission. This is certainly not true for every congregation. Many of our congregations could probably do much more and some of our congregations have found that sweet spot of matching “eagerness and energy.”

This blog is not for those congregations. This blog is for those congregations who would love to do a lot more in their neighborhoods and with their community. This blog is for those congregations who have a real eagerness for mission, but simply don’t have the energy and resources to keep pace with their hopes and dreams and wants. This blog is for those congregations who actually may have just as much need as those they want to serve.

This blog is a reminder from Paul himself who didn’t say, “Give everything you have and more,” but rather said, “Look at their need, look at your need and give in a way that there may be a fair balance.”

man in churchI really like this Pauline approach to giving. It reminds those churches who are rich in abundance and energy that in a world of suffering and deprivation that they may be called to dig deep and feel the pinch in their pocketbook. And it is a reminder to those congregations who struggle to pay the monthly bills that the gap between their need and the needs of their community may be much narrower. Giving must honor the needs of others, but also must honor the resources of ourselves.

In plain speak this blog is a reminder to those churches who just don’t have the same energy and resources that they once had twenty, thirty and forty years ago. I know that your eagerness to give and to serve and to love is great. I also know that you are showing some signs of weariness.

Listen to Paul. He is a wise one here. Look at the needs of your community. And be honest about your own needs. Give and serve and love in a way that honors what they need and what you have.

Be careful not to give too little. Be careful not to give too much.

Trust that God will bless the gift–however great or small.

“Help! I Can’t Move!”

‘Saul clothed David with his armor; he put a bronze helmet on his head and clothed him with a coat of mail. David strapped Saul’s sword over the armor, and he tried in vain to walk, for he was not used to them. Then David said to Saul, “I cannot walk with these; for I am not used to them.” So David removed them.’

I have images in my mind of a young, wiry-framed boy named David loaded down with armor meant for a much older, stronger and more muscle bound soldier. Of course, I do not know for sure that David was as slight as my mind portrays him. But I do know that Saul called him a boy and when Goliath looked at him “he disdained him because he was only a youth.

More importantly, the contrast between David and Goliath is glaringly apparent. Goliath is described as being either “four cubits and a span” or “six cubits and a span” depending on the translation one uses. Either way we have a man whose stature is somewhere between an average-sized NBA center and the larger than life sculpture of a Greek god. In other words, he’s a real life giant!

What really struck me, however, was not the difference between Goliath and David so much as the brave moment of vulnerability when David shed the armor that had been provided him. With only minor paraphrasing we have this shepherd boy exclaiming out loud, “Help! I can’t move! How can I face this giant if I can’t move. Get this stuff off of me!”

St. Louis arch
Arriving in St. Louis

I think I heard it put most succinctly when our stated clerk, the Rev. J. Herbert Nelson, spoke to the Way Forward Committee. In a moment of exceptional clarity he said that what the PCUSA must do is shift “from an institutional bureaucracy to a movement culture.”  A movement culture! Isn’t that beautiful? Thinking of the church not as an ecclesiastical institution, but as a movement. That I can live into. That I can preach. That I can fall in love with again.

And isn’t that what the shepherd boy, David, was saying, “If I am going to slay the giants of this world I have to be able to move! I can’t be burdened with too much stuff. I need to feel free and liberated to deal with the issues in front of me!”

Speaking of feeling liberated I heard a great story this week. I was speaking with my counterpart in Sacramento Presbytery about this General Assembly meeting and the language around shedding much of the structure in order to focus again on ministry. My friend shared with me the story of one of the congregations in his presbytery that took the big leap to shed the excess armor and structure of their church building. This church was built for 600 members, but this past year it had withered down to a mere 35 members.

St. Louis justice center
Marching with hundreds of others to the St. Louis Justice Center to present $47,000 on behalf of the EndCashBail movement.

It was finally decided that they would ask the presbytery to allow them to sell their building and work with the Presbyterian Foundation to set up an endowment for further ministry. My friend had expected a presbytery meeting filled with grief. What he experienced, however, was a group of people who felt liberated and spoke of renewed hope. After decades of wrestling with building repairs and maintenance they spoke of how this decision enabled them to once again dream, focus again on mission, and renew their hope for the future.

What they were doing was mirroring David’s comments to Saul, “I can’t walk. I can’t move. I can’t do ministry with all this armor. This structure is killing me.”

Structure is not a bad thing. But structure should always support mission and ministry, not weigh it down.

Just ask David.

Just look at the dead Goliath.

What Life/God Expects Of Us

“And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them.” 2 Corinthians 5: 15

Last week I had the opportunity to catch up with an old friend. As has been custom we took time to find out where life’s journey has taken us, what challenges there have been, and what gifts have shown up along the way. During the conversation, I talked about how hard it has been to find a consistent community given the nature of my recent years of interim work. Despite the fact that I have continuously served this presbytery I also have lived in five different communities in the twelve years of Cascades ministry. I shared with my friend how hard it had been to get the life that I wanted with all the moving around.

My friend thought for a moment and then went to her phone to find a quote from Victor Frankl, the author of Man’s Search for Meaning. She found it and said, “You might find this helpful, Brian.” Frankl, when speaking of those who somehow managed to survive the concentration camps in Germany, wrote, “It did not really matter what we expected from life, but what life expected from us.”

Ocean pic
Another Heron at the ocean

At the time I was on the Oregon Coast visiting churches and the next day was a light enough workday that I could walk along the coastline and ponder the crashing of waves and the hypnotic rhythm of the ocean. I thought a lot about Frankl’s quote and the balance between what we want from life and what life requires from us. I thought about this week’s lectionary and this reminder that Christ died so that we “might live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died…” I thought about the nature of call and setting aside personal ambition to serve bigger and deeper purposes.

As I thought about these things my lens changed. I was less frustrated by what I haven’t gotten in my life and more content with the life that God has placed before me.

My thoughts turned to our churches as I mused over how this lesson might apply not only to me personally, but to the churches I serve in our presbytery. I thought,

  • “If we are to live for Christ rather than for ourselves how might the lens of our lives change?” Will we focus less on what we want from the church and more on what God wants from us? Will we worry less about how the church is serving its members and ponder more about how the church is serving God.
  • “What does God require of us in this unique time?”
  • “If it is true that the real question is not ‘what we expect from life, but what life expects from us’ then what will be our contribution to God’s unfolding story?”

A handful of us are just about ready to fly off to St. Louis for the 223rd General Assembly of the PCUSA. May our motto be, “It’s not about how much the church can serve us, but how much we can serve God through the church.”

May the journey of radical trust continue!

A Nation Divided

“If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand.” Mark 3: 25

Wow! It didn’t take much reflection and hours of meditation for me to discern what this might have to do with life as we know it today. I wonder if you are like me and immediately thought about our current American political and social context.

I am nearing sixty years old and despite having periods in my life when I had deep disagreements with my brothers and sisters across the political aisle, I don’t believe I have ever experienced the depth of division that I now feel. Quite honestly, it pains me. I grieve over our current American context. At moments, I find myself near tears as if a loved one had recently died.

The Different DrumYet, despite this I wonder if this time is a gift to us in disguise. I remember reading M. Scott Peck’s book The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace nearly twenty years ago. In it he described the normal stages and cycles of community making. I don’t remember all the specifics but what I do remember is that he said that communities have a way of cycling through different stages of what he called pseudocommunity and authentic community. Generally, the bridge between the two is a period of uncertainty and chaos.

Psuedocommunity, he described, is a period where a church, organization, family unit, nation, etc. appears to be getting along, but the peace is the result of “knowing what not to talk about.” Pseudocommnity keeps the peace, but sacrifices authenticity and honesty. He writes that authentic community results after a period where basic assumptions about what keep us together are challenged and the community is forced to acknowledge truths about themselves that they had up to that point been able to sweep under the rug.

No CrueltyIt is no secret that we are in an especially raw and vulnerable time in our country. I have noticed that most of us have responded to the divisiveness of our political climate in one of two primary ways. Either we have participated in the demonizing and name-calling of our so-called opponents or we learned to get along by “knowing what not to talk about.” While the latter of these two coping mechanisms has more moral integrity to it I believe our gospel calls us to rise above both options.

Demonizing each other divides us, but avoidance does nothing to heal the divide that lies just under the surface of many of our conversations and relationships.

I want you know that I have been invited by some key leaders in the religious community to a new initiative to address and heal some of the divisiveness within our communities. Called “The Common Table” it brings together religious leaders who likely have divergent views in an attempt to lift up what we have in common, address the issues where we differ, and live more deeply into the concept of “authentic community.”

The gospel lesson for this Sunday says that “a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.” M. Scott Peck says that pseudocommunity is when we keep the peace by “knowing what not to talk about.” But pseudocommunity does not heal division; it only hides it from our view.

Let us be honest with each other. Let us move toward authentic community. And let us move one step closer to embodying the kingdom of heaven.

Our country depends on it.

Sabbath in a 24/7 Culture

“The Sabbath was made for humankind and not humankind for the Sabbath…” Mark 2: 27

A few years ago I was serving as a pastor of a church where we wanted to get a better sense of how the church could serve the community. We had a rummage sale coming up so we decided that we would stand by the exit door and ask those who had shopped there if they would be willing to take a short survey. Nearly fifty people kindly obliged.

church-sanctuaryThe survey listed about twenty choices, among them—more youth programming, Bible studies, a community garden, Sunday school, optional worship times, 24/7 church access, food pantry, etc. The top result didn’t surprise us at all given the neighborhood. Our rummage sale participants wanted more activities for their youth. But what did surprise us was the second highest choice—people wished that the church could be open 24/7 just so that they could sit in the pews and pray, light a candle, and have a sacred retreat from their otherwise hectic and overly stressed lives.

It was interesting personally doing the survey. This was the only response that almost always came with some commentary. After choosing it as a top priority they would then add, “Of course, we know that you can’t do that with vandalism and all, but if you could, we would come.”

I think this has something to do with our text for this Sunday, June 3. What I heard from our rummage sale guests was that they were looking for a place where they could practice a little sabbath in their lives. But what they also were telling us was that sabbath for them couldn’t be restricted to a certain hour on Sunday or even to a certain day; their lives were too complicated or maybe just too different to be able to commit to Sabbath at the same time that the Sunday faithful do.

Greece pic 3
A roadside Greek Orthodox shrine in Greece

I remember in 2014 when I rode my bike through Greece as part of my Rome to Rumi pilgrimage. Two or three times per day I would ride up on a miniature shrine that was completely open to the public—no locks, no guards, no hours posted. It didn’t matter whether I showed up at 6 a.m. or 6 p.m. I was able to stop my bike, enter the sacred space and take a few minutes to pray, light a candle, and give a thanks offering. I was struck that there was still enough reverence in Greek society for these shrines that vandals kept their hands off of them. At numerous roadside intersections and at the tops of passes a person could practice a moment of sabbath in the small shrines at any time of the day or night.

It is entirely too simplistic to boil this down to one single and simple issue, but I am going to do it anyway. I wonder if we in the church have to make a little fork-in-the-road decision—maybe we shouldn’t be busting our butts trying to convince a 24/7 culture that Sabbath is most appropriately observed exclusively on Sundays, but instead should be seeing our role as nurturing Sabbath observance in a culture of 24/7 expectations and lifestyles.

Greece pic 1
Inside my favorite Greek Orthodox shrine north of Mt. Olympus

I think people still need and want sabbath. In fact, I have even been told by people that the reason they don’t go to church is because of their need for a day of rest—sabbath! Most of these people are from two-parent households where both parents work or from working single parents. I have been told on numerous occasions that they work all week, get up early on Saturday for soccer games, football practice, shopping, and doing household chores. On Sunday they want permission to sleep in, rest, putter in the yard, take a hike, go to the beach, and visit with friends. In other words, they want sabbath.

I personally believe that whether a person is religious or not they still need sabbath. I personally believe that none of us are made to work seven days a week (yours truly included!). I personally believe that the story of God creating for six days and resting for one day is not only Biblical truth, but also biological and psychological truth. I personally believe sabbath is good for us, necessary and honors the rhythm of Creation, as God intended it to be.

I wonder if the mission of the church in this 24/7 culture is not to press people into our Sunday rhythm of Sabbath, but to just remind people and educate people that sabbath is good for the body, good for the soul, good for the family, and good for the community. I wonder if the mission of the church in this 24/7 culture is to provide more opportunities for people to observe and practice sabbath. I wonder if we need 24/7 churches for a 24/7 culture.

Of course, as my rummage sale respondents admitted, “Of course, we know it’s not possible, but if it were possible, we would come!”

“Isn’t the sabbath supposed to be made for us, not the other way around?”