religion

Channelling H.P. Lovecraft

/ uurevjeff

As a teen, I loved science fiction and horror, especially H.P. Lovecraft.  After reading one of my favorite books of all time – William Hope Hodgson’s The House on the Borderland – I took a stab at writing short stories.  I imagine they were terrible and I didn’t persist long in the effort.  But, I retained a hankering that, one day, I would craft an awesome story that was at least tolerably written.

About 10 years ago, I tried again.  The family was returning to Nags Head for a restful week of ocean and sand.  And, since I have little fondness for sitting on a beach for hours in the baking sun, I told everyone that mine would be a working vacation.  I wrote five short stories during the week, at the end of which I still harbored at least a whisper of a dream that I possessed a modicum of talent.

I only shared the stories with one other person, who let me down very kindly, and I have restricted myself to nonfiction and homiletics ever since.  Sermon writing suits my skill set far greater and also employs my oratorical abilities.  But, that little scribe in the back of my head still wishes that I could find an unimaginative but able crafter of language with whom I could collaborate to create the next great pantheon of outre fiction.

I just watched an absolutely delightful documentary on the life of my literary hero, Lovecraft: Fear of the Unknown, who was famous for ghost writing/editing for many published authors.  How I wish he were still alive that I could correspond with him today!  I’m not sure H.P. would have ever considered owning, let alone writing on a computer.  But, I have a direction I would love to explore that would suit his talents immeasurably, and for that even I would gladly write longhand.

I have in recent years been exploring what I call mystical humanism through the experience of affect in worship services (building on Thandeka’s work on Affect Theology).  Combined with Jungian notions of synchronicity, I have hypothesized a cosmos of infinitely connected threads constantly bombarding our lives with synaptic stimuli from which we can discern meaning and ultimately wisdom.

So, I have imagined an epic collection of tales about an intrepid minister (gee, ya think this might be just a little autobiographical?) exploring this web of existence, encountering colossal beauty, cyclopean terror, and unfathomable truths across vast and endless planes and universes.  Of course, every time the portal opens, it exposes our fragile little world to more of these enormous forces and influences.

All I need now is someone with the output capacity of Stephen King to produce the 49 books (or whatever our kindle-kind call them nowadays) needed to encompass this tome.  Then, I need the reincarnation of Rod Serling to produce a revisited Twilight Zone for the video generation.  Video games, soundtracks, 3-D movies, virtual reality sensatoriums – I could become the next Gene Roddenberry.

Sigh…what a wondrous vision!

Never Pass Up an Opportunity to Minister

/ uurevjeff

My new year began with what is probably the most unusual experience I have ever had in ministry, either as a lay person or as a freshly minted fellowshipped minister.  It started a few days ago in the pizza place up the block.  Justin, the owner and a fun and engaging young man, has done a lot to help me feel at home here in this little town of 400 souls. 

“Pastor Jeff,” he started, “would you be interested in blessing the first beer of the New Year at the American Legion?”  I found myself agreeing immediately and he began making phone calls to confirm the event.  Back at home, I wondered about my decision.  Does blessing a bar condone alcoholism and all of its related maladies?  What would my temperance leading predecessors think?  Would my participation sully the general attitude among townsfolk toward ministers and the church?

After a little consideration, I decided to go through with my commitment.  One reason is that the American Legion is one of the few things holding this battered and broken town together, and any opportunity to support them helps Smithton survive as a community.  In a town where virtually all other businesses long since died, the bars are booming.  I certainly couldn’t expect many other invitations from them to ply my trade.  And, for a congregation struggling to survive with only a handful of active members, I reasoned that if I can’t get locals to come to the church, then I would bring the church to them.

So, I wrote a short blessing, and headed over at 11:00 p.m.  Justin met me at the door and began shepherding me around the club, introducing me to everyone.  Any reservations I might have had about attending quickly vaporized.  One man asked me repeatedly to bless his wife in the coming year.  One woman had just survived a brain aneurysm and was anxious for a sign from God about how she should devote the remainder of her freshly minted lease on life.  A couple had just lost their 19-year-old handicapped son, who had lived bedridden for most of his life.  Another woman asked for advice on how to get her husband to let her take her two children to Sunday School.  And, of course, being a veteran’s organization, a number of people wanted to honor loved ones past and present who had served.

What had begun as a bit of a lark now became quite probably my most intense ministerial experience to date.  As the countdown finished and the champagne toast was completed, the chapter president introduced me and handed over the microphone.  I began by offering everyone the chance to speak aloud the names of people important to them during the past year, and voices spoke out several dozen names.  I honored their memory and asked the bartender to pour a beer.  Lifting it, I said:

     May the spirits consumed here in the coming year empower our spirits:
     To fan the flames of friendship and community;
     To relax our worried minds and troubled hearts; and
     To promote only happiness and joy in our lives.

I then blessed all present and wished everyone a Happy New Year.  I stayed for another hour or so, talking and taking pictures.  The unanimous consensus was that having the blessing was a good idea, with people actually taking some pride at possibly inventing a tradition to be continued in future years.

So, the next time someone tells you that religion is passe, or that we have outgrown the need for churches, don’t believe them.  The need out there for what we offer is massive.  And I certainly hope in the coming year to do everything I can to meet this need head on.

Support for Transgender Folk

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The Pittsburgh Tribune-Review recently published two opinion pieces: “Bending gender in sports” by L. Brent Bozell III (11/28/10) and “Choosing one’s TSA groper” by Ralph R. Reiland (11/29/10).  Sadly, both articles chose to use ill-informed sarcasm and generally snarky tones to portray transgender folk as some new enemy for people to fear.

I drafted the following letter to the editor and submitted it for publication on behalf of the Westmoreland County LGBTQ Interfaith Network, a group of clergy and lay people who affirm the spirituality of all LBGTQ people and their friends and allies.  With a limit of 200 words, the challenge was daunting, but I hope it makes a good first step in promoting education and compassion in the region.

====================
To the editor:

Two recent opinion pieces cruelly vilified transgender people, oversimplifying this complex issue. We encourage fairer and more balanced dialogue.

Our culture limits its understanding of sex to male and female, and gender to man and woman. “Transgender” as an umbrella term describes other gender identities. Specifically, transgender people are born one sex, but self-identify as a different gender. Many simply live their identity as crossdressers, third gender, or genderqueer.

Transsexuals actually make the physical transition from one sex to another. This well-defined procedure involves surgery and years of hormone treatment and psychiatric therapy.

Perhaps one in every 1,500 births results in an intersex child, in which both sexes are present. The Intersex Society of North America recommends assigning a gender without surgery, using medical procedures to sustain good physical health until the child can later decide on a gender identity.

Transgender folk do not make gender identity decisions frivolously. People deserve respect for their identities and labels they choose, particularly when making choices that result in discrimination. As marvelous creations in a wondrous universe, every person has inherent worth and dignity. Compassionate responses include first educating ourselves to facts, not allowing unfounded bias and fear to dictate our judgment.

Jeff Liebmann (Consulting Minister, Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton) writing for the Westmoreland LGBTQ Interfaith Network

Vulnerability

/ uurevjeff / 1 Comment

Entering the ministerial search process is equal parts exciting and scary, mysterious and revelatory.  The Settlement Handbook for Ministers and Congregations, maintained by the Transitions Office, is a fascinating document that masterfully outlines this incredibly lengthy and complicated process.  One particular item caught my eye. 

As the Congregational Record encourages congregational self-disclosure, so the Ministerial Record encourages self-disclosure by the minister.  In most cases ministers have invested a great deal of themselves in completing the MR and look upon their expression of interest as an offer of their ministry and themselves.  Their sense of vulnerability is often high at this point.

This statement succinctly expressed my feeling as I send my Ministerial Record out for the world to review — vulnerable.  But, as frightening as the prospect of bearing my soul to all interested parties may be, the wonderful anticipation grows.

And, of course, anyone who knows me will tell you that I have never been shy when talking about myself.  So, self-disclosure is not the real concern.  Rather, I can’t help wonder if I have crossed every “t” and dotted every “i” sufficiently, so that the perfect match for me will read my Ministerial Record and call.

I have the luxury of not being geographically bound, so I have been reading incredibly interesting Congregational Records from Maine to California, Iowa to Florida, Texas to Michigan.  The congregations range from just under 100 members to just over 500.  Every record is different, but in other ways they are remarkably similar.  Virtually every congregation wants a minister who will lead, inspire, share, and empower.  Every church in search wants a preacher, teacher, administrator, counselor, and visionary.  It is a daunting list.

What makes it all seem possible, however, is the level of honesty I detect in the Congregational Records.  I have read dozens of accounts of church conflict, troubled ministries, resource challenges, and unfulfilled dreams.  So whenever I grow anxious thinking of the challenge before me, I just remember how vulnerable these congregations have allowed themselves to be in looking for new ministers.

Wherever I end up this time next year, I know that I will not be facing the beautiful unknown future alone.  I will be walking alongside hundreds of souls, braving the uncertainty with joy, with energy, and with love.

Stop Reading This Message

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If life teaches us one lesson, it is this.  Never leave business with another person unfinished, because you never know when that person will be gone, leaving you with regret over the unsaid and the unfinished.

Yesterday, my 92-year-old mother-in-law Ruby was returning from one of her favorite outings, a trip to the casino.  Getting off the mini-bus, the woman in front of her stumbled and Ruby tried to help her.  In the process, she fell herself and struck her head on the pavement.

At the hospital, we were told that the extensive bleeding in her brain was inoperable.  She never regained consciousness and died a few hours later.

Ruby lived a long and momentous life.  She leaves two adult children and three grandchildren who all love her.  Her death leaves a hole and an admirable collection of memories in many lives.

As this coming weekend approaches, we acknowledge various observances honoring the dead, from All Soul’s Day, All Hallow’s Eve, Samhain, and El Día de los Muertos.  These holidays afford us the opportunity to remember our loved ones now gone and to honor their memory in our lives.  These holidays also remind us not to procrastinate.

With medical advances lengthening our lifespans every day, we take for granted that friends and family will be alive for many decades.  But, the universe can be a cruel classroom.  So, if there is someone in your life with which you have had a disagreement, or with whom you have unresolved conflict or issues, then stop reading this message right now.  Pick up the phone, or better yet, walk, drive, or fly to that person and talk with them.  Tell them what they mean to you and try to work out whatever differences are keeping you from being an active part of each other’s lives.

Do it now, because the winter is approaching for us all, and tomorrow may be too late.

Becoming the Wind

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All my life I’ve been a blade of grass in the wind
Or like a stubborn tree, I’ve let the wind shape me
But now I’m feelin’ bold, enough to let go my hold
And I’ll not be a blade of grass again
I’m gonna be the wind
I’ll be the wind, I can wear the mountain down
And I’ll be the wind of hope, I can lift you off the ground
And I’ll fan the flames of love
You know they’ll never die again
Oh, I’m gonna be the wind.
                                     — lyrics from “I’m Gonna Be the Wind” by Laurie Lewis

Reflection from Islam: A Short History, by Karen Armstrong
Perhaps the central paradox of the religious life is that it seeks transcendence, a dimension of existence that goes beyond our mundane lives, but that human beings can only experience this transcendent reality in earthly, physical phenomena.  People have sensed the divine in rocks, mountains, temple buildings, law codes, written texts, or in other men and women.  We never experience transcendence directly; our ecstasy is always “earthed,” enshrined in something or someone here below.  Religious people are trained…to use their creative imagination.

In Islam, Muslims have looked for God in history.  Their sacred scripture, the Qur’an, gave them a historical mission.  Their chief duty was to create a just community in which all members, even the most weak and vulnerable, were treated with absolute respect.  The experience of building such a society and living in it would give them intimations of the divine, because they would be living in accordance with God’s will…

Muslims developed their own rituals, mysticism, philosophy, doctrines, sacred texts, laws and shrines just like everybody else.  But all these religious pursuits sprang directly from the Muslims’ frequently anguished contemplation of the political affairs of Islamic society.  If state institutions did not measure up to the Quranic ideal, if their political leaders were cruel or exploitative, or if their community was humiliated by apparently irreligious enemies, a Muslim could feel that his or her faith in life’s ultimate purpose and value was in jeopardy…Consequently, the historical trials and tribulations of the Muslim community – political assassinations, civil wars, invasions, and the rise and fall of ruling dynasties – were not divorced from the interior religious quest, but were the essence of the Islamic vision.

Becoming the Wind

Popular lyricists love their metaphors.  Sometimes, a musical phrase takes on so much meaning, that our language and cultural understanding adopts the new interpretation. Pink Floyd made “another brick in the wall” synonymous with mindless bureaucracy and compliance.  The “bridge over troubled water” is the loving support we offer each other when we are weary and tears are in our eyes. And whenever I use the word “imagine,” I cannot help but think about John Lennon’s utopian vision and Strawberry Fields forever.
Another often-used nature metaphor involves singing about the wind.

  • To Kerry Livgren of the group Kansas, the wind offers the vehicle for our searching, as we are all just “Dust in the Wind.” We are just drops of water in an endless sea, and all that we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see. Our physical bodies are insignificant next to the power of the wind. Wind is the endless, timeless, and steady progress of change in nature and only our spirits can connect with this force.
  • To Bob Dylan “Blowin’ in the Wind,” represents a more specific harbinger of change, of a coming time when injustice and war will no longer be tolerated. Wind sweeps away the wrongs of society and encourages us to act upon more important considerations of our life’s purpose.
  • To Jimi Hendrix, the “Wind Cries Mary” as a constant reminder of actions we wish we could take back, of words better left unspoken, of a love now lost. Wind reminds us to appreciate what we have and those we love and to never allow thoughtless deeds to jeopardize what really matters.
  • To Elton John, the wind represents a more permanent loss – the snuffing of a “Candle in the Wind” of a prematurely shortened life full of energy and promise. Wind is not just the methodical erosion of mountains, but can also be a tornado touching down with mighty destruction for just seconds.

In our popular music, wind is an elemental force of change, moving us to action, guiding us toward meaning and understanding.  Wind offers closure, even the death of ideas, ways of living, or people important to us.
Nine years ago yesterday, September 11, 2001, we suffered a tragic act of violence and hate.  To some, the horror of that day’s events still burns vividly in their minds – images of smoke and flame, of destruction and death.  The personal loss of loved ones and the broader shattering of confidence in our security and safety affected us all to some degree.  The process of grief challenges each of us during our lives. But, grieving is made all the more difficult when the loss occurred through the intentional or irresponsible acts of others.

Every year at this time, we seem to hear sentiments from those still coping with the aftermath of that horrific day.  While some focus on remembering the victims and the heroic efforts of rescuers, others stress their desire to punish any and everyone on which blame for the attacks can be assigned.  Sadly, there are those whose wish to paint that brush of blame on any Muslim, as if all adherents of Islam supported radical acts of fundamentalist violence.

Recently, people have expressed much public consternation over the proposed opening of a mosque near the former site of the World Trade Center in New York City.  One particularly troubling response came from the Dove World Outreach Center in Gainesville, Florida, which decided to make yesterday its first annual Burn-A-Koran-athon, finding and destroying as many copies of the Qur’an as a statement.  Thankfully, the planners canceled the event, but not before raising concerned eyebrows across the globe.

Historically, book burning is a favorite tool of totalitarians and bigots with philosophies grounded in intolerance and contempt for the rights of others.  Now, within the bounds of necessary local ordinances, I will affirm the right of anyone to build a fire, even for the purpose of burning whatever combustible products they choose.  We Unitarian Universalists certainly affirm using flame as a symbol for the transformative power of love in our lives.  But, I condemn as ignorant and hateful the burning of any books, let alone one deemed sacred by the followers of its teachings.

For the Qur’an is not just a book to a Muslim, and burning a Qur’an is not simply the misguided act of small minded people.  Most traditional schools of Islamic law generally forbid Muslims, unless in a state of ritual purity, from even touching a Qur’an.  The Qur’an is regarded as the literal word of God in its untranslated Arabic form.  Muslims must always treat the book with reverence, and discarding worn copies requires specific rituals.  Desecrating a copy of the Qur’an is punishable by imprisonment in some countries.

According to their web site, the “Dove World Outreach Center is a New Testament Church – based on the Bible, the Word of God.”  The non-denominational church has a history of provocative public protests against what it considers sins.  In the past, it has put up a sign on its property reading, “Islam is of the Devil,” and has joined the extremist Westboro Baptist Church in protesting homosexuality.  Its self-proclaimed purpose is to get Christians to stand up for the “truth” of the Bible.

Now I wonder, is this the truth of the Bible where Jesus says in Matthew 7:12, “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law of the prophets?”  Or is this the truth of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:44), when Jesus invoked listeners to “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you?”

Perhaps, finding the truth in the Bible compels us to look for the truth in the Qur’an.  So, in our spirit of promoting the free and responsible search for truth and meaning (and opposing the tyranny of the book burners of the world) let us examine what the Qur’an has to say about the wind. In Surah 3, The Family of Imram, verse 117 says:

The likeness of what they spend in the life of this world is as the likeness of wind in which is intense cold (that) smites the seed produce of a people who have done injustice to their souls and destroys it; and Allah is not unjust to them, but they are unjust to themselves.

Therefore, our acts during our lives that violate the commonly-held beliefs of the people act like an icy blast of wind that kills our crops. In other words, you get back from life what you put into it.  Don’t blame God for punishing you, for you laid the seeds of your own destruction through your own misdeeds, unbelief, or disobedience.  Sounds familiar doesn’t it?  It should.  Because in Matthew 26, verse 52, Jesus tells Peter to sheathe his sword drawn against the Romans, “for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.”
Paul later tells the Galatians: 

…you reap whatever you sow.  If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit.  So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.  So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.

And Buddhists, like many other adherents of various Asian religions, believe that we possess free will to choose between good or evil without the need of God’s intervention to implement the consequences of karma.

Quite the opposite of what some proponents claim, the Qur’an is far more than a simple list of prescribed behaviors for all Muslims.  The text often reads quite poetically.  For instance, up until now, all of our metaphors described wind not just as a benign force of erosion and passing on, but of violent turbulence and destruction.  Frequently, however, the Qur’an describes the wind quite differently. The wind is portrayed as sustainer, the medium by which nature spreads our seed and waters our crops.

In Surah 15, verse 22, the wind fertilizes, sending down the water from the clouds for us to drink.  In Surahs 35 and 45, the wind brings the clouds that actually bring life back to earth that has died.  This wind resurrects and is a sign of blessings to come.  Other citations specifically label the wind as the medium for the good news before the Mercy of Allah.  In Surahs 25 and 30, God uses the wind to send the pure water from the clouds, for which we should be grateful.

So, how may we apply this notion of the wind to our own circumstances?  For 150 years, this congregation (the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton), rooted firmly in the Mon Valley of Southwestern Pennsylvania, swayed with the gentle breezes of the passing years, bent under the impact of shifting population demographics, and suffered the battering of economic downturns.  These roots were important, for without roots, we wander aimlessly, with no past, no anchor.  Lacking roots, our traditions and rituals lose their impact and the gifts of our ancestors crumble to the dust of discarded relics in forgotten attic crawlspaces.

Perhaps, however, there comes a time when we must uproot – when we must no longer be satisfied with being a blade of grass blowing in the wind.  I don’t mean that we consider moving our building physically – although such a shift could someday reap benefits.  I’m talking about lifting ourselves out of the packed earth of complacency.  I am talking not just about the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton, but of our entire denomination moving beyond the self-satisfaction of having emancipated ourselves from dogmatic beliefs and creedal churches.

For many years, we as a congregation and as a denomination have stood firmly rooted in a belief in the unity of all that we find holy and in the basic goodness of humankind.  Our own tall tree of knowledge has affirmed the use of reason to make of our own earth and lives the paradise that lies within our will and determination to create.  Our branches have stretched far and wide into schools and universities, courtrooms and congresses, clinics and hospitals.

But, maybe the time has come to change our passive approach.  We can retain our convictions, our strength of belief.  We might want to consider, however, leaving the comfort of our houses of worship, spreading our message of universal love, freedom, and justice across a land growing ever more barren of those marvelous gifts.

Surah 90, The City, tells of how humankind is born with two eyes, a tongue and two lips, and that we know that two paths of life exist.

But [we] would not attempt the uphill road,
And what will make you comprehend what the uphill road is?
(It is) the setting free of a slave,
Or the giving of food in a day of hunger to an orphan,
Or to the poor man lying in the dust.
Then [we are] of those who believe and charge one another
to show patience, and charge one another to show compassion.

Like our abolitionist ancestors, we need to fight our modern slavery to money, material goods, and the bindings of social class.  We must find ways to eat more ethically and to feed the hundreds of millions who hunger.  We must seek ways to live nonviolently, to love unconditionally, and to dispel the dark clouds of fear and oppression.

In order to do that, we must become the wind.  We must become agents of change – not the destructive change of fundamentalist certitude and prejudice, or the corrosive erosion of indifference and stale tradition; but nurturing change raining down on a land thirsty for a saving message from a drought of hope.  Like a wind, we can blow onto the streets of the physical world.  We can waft through the communities of social media, into the world of cyberspace.  We can become the wind of good news, evangelizing our saving message.

Now, some equate such evangelism with proselytizing.  You might worry that our message will get tied up in telling folks that ours is the only true religious option.  So, in the name of tolerance, we end up not saying anything.  But Unitarian Universalist evangelism is not about converting people to the “one true church.”  It’s certainly not about holding the keys to the doors of a kingdom locked forever to those who do not accept our version of the truth.  Unitarian Universalist evangelism is about letting people know that we are here; it is about telling the world that there is a vibrant and compassionate alternative to the hate-filled, fear mongers who despise anyone who is different from them.

Unitarian Universalist minister Tony Larsen was raised Catholic.  He went to parochial schools and attended catechism classes, where students were drilled on the important questions of their religion, and where they learned the right answers to those questions.  Because of his experiences as a child, Larsen believes that our kids need something to help them formulate their own answers to those ultimate questions in life.

So, Larsen developed a Unitarian Universalist catechism that provides children, as well as people of all ages, with an answer to the question, “What do you believe in?”  His catechism consists of three simple points:

  1. Love your neighbor as yourself, which includes trying not to hurt people in any way;
  2. Make the world a better place, which includes working for justice, peace, and freedom for all people; and
  3. Search for the truth with an open mind.

Show patience and compassion; free the slaves and feed the hungry; and search for truth wherever that search leads you, whether it is the Bible or the Qur’an, the Bhagavad-Gita or the Tao Te Ching.

The popular 1980 Bob Segar song describes the experience of many adult Unitarian Universalists, who like Tony Larsen were raised in other faith traditions:

The years rolled slowly past and I found myself alone
Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friends
I found myself further and further from my home
And I guess I lost my way, there were oh so many roads.
I was living to run and running to live
Never worried about paying or even how much I owed.
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
Breaking all of the rules that would bend
I began to find myself searching for shelter again and again.

We found in our congregations shelter against the winds that rocked us.  We found in our heritage and history the roots we had long sought that welcomed diversity and freed people from oppression.

But, we have also grown comfortable in these shelters, our loving religious communities.  We have grown comfortable while countless others out there are buffeted as they run against the wind.  Let us, therefore, stream out into the world.  Let us spread the good news of Unitarian Universalism whenever someone wants to burn a Qur’an.  Let us spread our good news when a gay youth gets beat up.  Let us spread our good news when another corporation carelessly pillages our interdependent web of life.  Let us spread our good news when hard-working, but undocumented families are ripped apart and denied the promise of America afforded to each and every one of us at some time in our past.  Let us bring life, the life-giving waters of Unitarian Universalism, to a dying land, and let them know that we are here – that we are here to stay.

To worship God is nothing other than to serve the people.
It does not need rosaries, prayer carpets, or robes.
All peoples are members of the same body, created from one essence.
If fate brings suffering to one member
The others cannot stay at rest.
                                              — “To Serve the People,” by Saadi, Persian Poet

Where is the Outrage?

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As the anniversary of the September 11 attacks approaches, we are faced with a new threat to any hope of peaceful resolution to the challenges of religious plurality in our world.  The Dove World Outreach Center, a self-proclaimed “New Testament Church – based on the Bible, the Word of God,” plans to burn Qur’ans this coming Saturday “in remembrance of the fallen victims of 9/11 and to stand against the evil of Islam.”

Like many of my colleagues, I plan to read from the Qur’an during our Sunday morning worship service at the Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton as a show of support of our Muslim brothers and sisters across the globe.  But, after watching a CNN reporter interviewing the head of the Center, I must ask myself where are the same questions from the Christian majority of this nation?  The silence of religious leaders, if to do nothing more but to ask them not to commit such a misguided act of desecration, is deafening.

To Terry Jones and the members of the Dove World Outreach Center, please do not go through with this planned action.  Frankly, the threat alone of your protest has already accomplished its mission.  But, do you not understand that to a Muslim, the paper containing the holy words of the Qur’an has the same import as the steel and stone of the World Trade Centers?  By burning this sacred text, you are no better than those who flew planes on that fateful day.  And no matter how you read your sacred texts, this is not how Jesus taught us to live in religious community with others.

I know you will cite the angry outburst at the Temple as the lesson that Jesus offered for the occasional need to “make an example.”  Do you not see that your action is not the same?  Jesus did not defy the Pharisees by burning the Torah.  He did not defile the idols of the Romans.  Yes, he got angry, showing his all-to-human side.  I put it to you and your congregation that that is the actual lesson of this incident – that his singular act of intemperance was so unusual, that even Jesus was not immune from feeling the hurt and betrayal of religious leaders gone astray.

And, from that lesson, we should learn that violence accomplishes nothing but breeding and spreading more violence.  Religious leaders, please reach out to Terry Jones and his congregation and implore him to cancel this event.  Encourage him to find more productive venues to express his opinions and make his points heard.  Stand on the side of love for the hundreds of millions of Muslims who do not support terrorism and who will be devastated by this planned act of mutilation of their holy text.

Instead, join with me and others who this Sunday will explore the writings of a religion that also honors the contributions of Abraham and Jesus to our religious heritage.

Memorial Day in Smithton

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When the Commander of the local American Legion post asked me to provide the Invocation and Benediction at their Memorial Day service, I didn’t really know what to expect. I don’t know why I thought that this would be a few aging vets and their families gathered around the town’s memorial to fallen soldiers. The hand-written signs that popped up a few days ago in front of my apartment declaring “No Parking, Monday 12-1 for Parade,” should have warned me that my assumptions were unfounded.

I walked over to the Legion (literally in the building behind my place) around 11:30 and started talking with folks. Dozens of Legion members in uniform, active duty soldiers, and women in the Auxiliary were buzzing around laying out food, setting up chairs, and preparing for the ceremony. Soldiers practiced retiring the flag and prepared to fire the salute. They couldn’t find their microphone, so I ran (well, walked as far as my poor ailing heart allows) to the church and grabbed our karaoke machine.

At 12:30, I walked over to the main street to watch the parade. Hundreds lined the street to watch the procession. Vets and soldiers, classic cars, fire engines, the Yough Senior High School Band, little leaguers, and flag-adorned trucks passed by. In all, the parade took maybe 10 minutes. But, for a town like Smithton, it was Macy’s on Thanksgiving.

Returning to the Legion, I saw that everyone was gathering for the ceremony. Families and children, old and young gathered all around. Suddenly I began to wonder if my words were going to be adequate for this auspicious gathering, this moment in the history of the town. Suddenly I realized the community role I was about to play in Smithton. Suddenly I thought that the next few minutes was going to define how people in town saw my congregation for the next few months, or even longer.

I delivered my invocation and returned to my seat. Several speakers and presentations followed, the band played, and we sang the national anthem. The main speaker, an impressive young man who lives two doors down from the church, spoke about remembering our soldiers throughout the year and not just on Memorial Day. I cheered inside, as my benediction was Rabbi Roland Gittlesohn’s piece on remembering the lost during spring, summer, autumn, and winter, as well as other times.

The ceremony ended and the feast began. Chicken, deviled eggs, potato salad, the best baked beans I’ve had in ages, and endless cookies. I walked through the crowd chatting. While I have experienced this ever since moving in last February, I knew that I was now cemented in the community’s mind as Pastor Jeff of that church down Second Street across from the old brewery.

I also felt proud of the work I did today. As a pacifist, it is challenging to commemorate the sacrifices of so many to causes I might find questionable – to honor the commitment, the expression of the best of human character, without condoning the violence of war. As an atheist, it is difficult to find ways to invoke the powers of the universe in ways that a largely theistic public can embrace without compromising my own beliefs. I did both today.

Rites of Passage

/ uurevjeff

I realized that ministry was my optimal vocation when I recognized it as the last great outpost of the generalist. My father always considered himself a “renaissance man,” and I followed in his steps. But, in our increasingly specialized world, I found little appreciation for people who looked at the “big picture,” and sought interdisciplinary solutions to problems. Clergy, though, tend to wear many hats – preacher, teacher, activist, counselor, administrator. And, under their suit of armor, they need a caring heart, a soft shoulder, a firm hand, and a stiff upper lip.

But, in spite of our Sears Craftsman toolbox with a thousand little drawers, we do manage to fit into certain types.

  • The Inspirer, the amazing preacher who should never be allowed into any committee meeting;
  • The Organizer, who can juggle a million tasks but has little skill at motivating others;
  • The Artiste, who designs moving worship services, but can’t connect with children; and
  • The Counselor, whose one-on-one skills cannot translate to the pulpit.

I’m sure there are many others (and I’ll leave it to others to assign me to my category!).

But, I was reminded yesterday of one simple way of identifying members of the clergy, and that is by which rite of passage energizes them the most. Specifically, I’m talking about weddings and funerals.

Now, some ministers simply rock at funerals. They tend to view times of loss and grief as our best opportunities to evaluate our lives and assess what is truly important. These clergy tend to be fantastic at hospice care, hospital chaplaincies, and emotional presence. Other ministers shine at weddings, where the purity and innocence shines light on all that is possible in our lives. These clergy tend to be outstanding teachers, public relations, and ministerial presence. Now, I’m sure that some ministers are great at both weddings and funerals, but even the most ambidextrous person probably has a preferred hand.

Yesterday, I officiated at a wedding at my church. It was a simple affair – just the couple and immediate family on both sides. No flowers, or fancy clothes. No wedding party or family drama. Brothers and sisters were moving around snapping pictures. At the end of the short ceremony, the groom’s little sister wiped her eyes and said, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

But, I do. Because weddings hold the potential for such raw joy that we forget all of those devices we carefully construct to shield us from sharing emotions with others. For that one moment, we feel no doubt, no fear, no hate – just unadorned, unrefined love. At that moment in space and time, only hope abounds.

For me, weddings are the one big surprise of ministry. I always knew that I would love preaching and teaching, and that I could comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable. But, the rush I get from weddings, whether small and simple or massively elaborate, continues to surprise me.

An Empty Seat of Sadness and Satisfaction

/ uurevjeff

Yesterday was my commencement ceremony from seminary. But, my seat stood vacant as circumstance kept me from attending my graduation from Meadville Lombard Theological School and receiving my Master’s of Divinity degree. Months ago, I made the decision to skip this milestone event based on predominately financial reasons. As the date drew closer, health issues had also intervened to make participation troublesome. But, I will admit that much of my decision derived from indifference of attending yet another similar celebration after a lifetime of educational efforts. I had convinced myself not to care about my absence.

Then I received a message from one of my dearest friends – a fellow seminarian whose life path has paralleled mine many times over the years in spite of physical distance separating us. She mentioned my empty seat next to hers and all I felt was sadness for missing a special and unique opportunity and sharing a moment with this loving colleague. I was reminded of a time perhaps 10 years ago. It was midweek preceding a youth conference I was attending as a sponsor, chaplain, and van driver. I learned that my favorite uncle had died and that the funeral was being held that weekend – in a distant city. I did not have the money for the trip, but what really prevented me from going anyway was my desire to fulfill my obligation to our youth and to be with them at the con.

You see, my uncle was a lay Baptist minister who served a small congregation for many years. I knew as truly as one can know in my heart that he would rather I spend that time ministering with my youth than flying to spend time with unknown cousins and other distant relatives. As it turned out, the con was an amazing experience and I felt the vibrant presence of my uncle with me during that Saturday night worship service.

Similarly, yesterday I preached at a neighboring fellowship on one of my topics of evangelical calling – atheism. I find that when I preach on the subject that many listeners, who otherwise find little of themselves in our spoken and sung religious messages, finally feel that a clergy person is speaking directly to them and inviting them into the fold of community. It was a joyous opportunity for me, as it always is, to experience that frontier of potential for ecstasy and transformation.

I suppose that that is when you know that you are truly living life. When you have so many opportunities to serve and to celebrate, to experience and explore, that you cannot achieve them all, then you know that you are not just existing. I wish I could have filled that empty seat, that seat of momentary sadness in my life. I would have loved to be with my colleagues celebrating the sacrifice and hard work of completing our seminary training. But, I overflow with the sensation that my choice afforded me yet one more opportunity to do the work of ministry – to inspire and inform, to encourage and empower, to be with other people in all their vulnerability and courage in an atmosphere of worship.

Maybe someday, I’ll find a way to physically occupy that seat of sadness and satisfaction. For now, only my spirit sits as my body continues walking.