Certain words delight me. They find their way into my speech and writing, partly because they have deep meaning. But, they also usually possess something interesting as words in either a visual or auditory sense. For instance, I love the word “paradigm.” Ever since I read Joel Barker’s book on the subject years ago, the concept (and that silent ‘g’) have given me immense joy.

I was reminded of another delightful word recently. In closing an email, a friend signed off with “Yes at times irreverent, but respectful of boundaries.” What an absolutely wonderful expression! Of course, now that I travel the path toward a life of ministry, the word “irreverent” has new meaning. How exactly does a minister act irreverently? Can a “reverend” be irreverent?

Well, I certainly intend to explore irreverence as a “reverend” in my ministry. For one, I strongly encourage people to challenge assumptions in their lives and to facilitate paradigm shifts. My most commonly asked question is “Why?” Why do we follow certain rules and behave in certain ways? And, please, never expect me to accept as a valid answer, “Because we have always done it that way,” unless you are able to substantiate the tradition with detailed justification.

Another favorite form of irreverence is humor, particularly satire. My ministry is as informed by the “sermons” of George Carlin as it is by any theologian past or present. Humor gives us permission to lower our guard, so that we can examine ourselves safely and with an open spirit. The act of laughing relaxes our bodies and eases tensions that might make us less open to insight and sharing.

Perhaps my favorite form of irreverence is the use of popular culture as religious metaphor. I frequently infuse imagery from movies, television, and so-called “lower” art forms into my sermons. This summer, I delivered a sermon on the Gospel According to Ed Wood, and I am currently writing a paper on Themes of Religious Humanism in the films of George A. Romero. If someone had not already written them, I would have composed religious education curricula on the Simpsons, Star Trek, and Dr. Seuss.

Irreverence, however, should be wielded with a substantial degree of precision. Like any tool in the arsenal of the minister, irreverence can hammer a point home, or smash its intended target indiscriminately. Sometimes, paradigms exist for legitimate reasons. Sometimes, making light of a topic is simply not appropriate. And, sometimes, we need to appeal to a “higher” state of intellect, emotion, and being to achieve a desired affect. So, I shall strive to always maintain a healthy irreverence, while remaining mindful and respectful of boundaries.

The past week seemed to be immensely rewarding for each of the participants. It is hard to assess the impact one short week of effort by our little group had on this city still recovering two years later from the trauma of Katrina. In some ways, our presence alone appeared to have as significant an effect on the residents as did the weeds we pulled, the nails we hammered, or the food we sorted. And, even though we paid Hands On New Orleans for room and board for the week, we brought to the trip additional financial resources by purchasing a good deal of food, drink, and souvenirs, and through charitable donations.

For me, the experience was an interesting contrast of the close quarters and strenuous effort for six days among adults with my many past weekends spent at weekend district youth conferences. As the week progressed, we learned a good deal about each other and many friendships developed. We spent much time in the common lounge area at Hands On talking and sharing. At the same time, the living quarters presented unfamiliar challenges that created moments of modest tension. Living in bunk beds in a room with 8 to 16 people, and sleeping in the Southern heat and humidity, fosters forces that bind folks together in shared intimate exploit, but also produces strains that accentuate the differences that can separate us.

A lesson that this week strongly reinforced for me was the importance of assuming the good intention of others. Affirming and promotion the inherent worth and dignity of every person entails an appreciation of the very different personalities we all possess. When these personalities clash, we can avail ourselves of many tools to resolve conflicts and reunite in common purpose – a caring thought, humor, a gentle touch or a hug. But, most important, I believe, is the discipline of walking in another’s shoes just long enough to see the world from their perspective, and hopefully understanding the influences that produced the person as they are today. Just a moment of reflection can help all of us see the basic goodness that lies in each person.

Living in a human society, our lives intersect which each other on a daily basis. At school, at work, and at church, our interactions can create moments of shared joy and wonder. But, crossing paths can also generate friction. When that happens, before we look for the hurtful cause, or the evil in another, it helps to first assume the good intention of others. Finding the good in others may also help us intensify the good within ourselves.

This was our last work day here in NOLA (New Orleans, La.). Most of the job sites were repeats, including the Live Oak School, Project Lazarus, and the various construction projects. I spent my last day back at Ms. Evelyn’s house pulling down plaster and lath. We got the huge timber installed under the sagging corner of the house, so our crew chief was excited.

I do not consider myself a gourmet by any means. In fact, I am really not all that discriminating an eater at all. But, there are some foods that turn me into that drooling vision of Homer Simpson. We ate lunch at Cafe Reconcile again, and today I had the Shrimp Creole, Crawfish Bisque, and chicory coffee. New Orleans deserves to be restored to its original condition if for absolutely no other reason, meals like this.

Tonight, I walked a few miles along St. Charles Avenue to the Camellia Grille. My daughter has been raving about this place for years on her visits. Again, my palate was delighted. They had a chocolate pecan pie. I told the man behind the counter that I do not order pecan pie north of the Mason-Dixon line, because we Northerners just don’t know how to make it. He assured me that I would be delighted.

I watched as he cut the slice of pie and inverted in onto the grill. Then he squirted a little butter on the grill and flipped the pie over. After placing it on the plate, he topped it with a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream. Words fail me in describing that experience.

I don’t exactly know what makes a memorable experience religious. Perhaps seeing a child’s precious stuffed animal atop moldy textbooks in a collapsed elementary school in the Lower Ninth Ward two years after Katrina is a religious experience. Perhaps every experience is religious to some small degree. I am not sure what the percentage must be in order for an experience to be truly described as religious. I think that I have reached a point where any moment in our lives that takes us beyond the normal and routine, and that stimulates our thoughts and emotions, is religious.

Because if God is the ultimate, or the combination of all experience, or the universe, or however one views the concept, then any experience that opens our senses, our hearts, or our minds to something beyond ourselves is placing us in the presence of God. Perhaps thinking of eating a chocolate pecan pie trivializes the nature of experiencing God. I certainly do not intend to do so. I am trying to say that a simple act – feeling a breeze, wading in the surf, watching the first golden rays of sunlight in the morning – can inspire awe, and put one in a state of self awareness and awareness of our connectedness with all of existence.

The potential for such an experience should exist every Sunday morning in worship services. But, we should be on the lookout for these moments all during our hectic lives. Perhaps a truly religious life is one filled with religious experience – some that are life changing epiphanies, and some that waft on the wind like a butterfly.