radical hospitality

Here is the welcoming statement from the front of the bulletin at Robertson-Wesley church:

In response to God's call, we, the congregation of Robertson-Wesley United Church, declare our commitment to opening our hearts and our church family to all people in our community, regardless of sexual orientation, age, gender, differing abilities, ethnicity, or economic circumstance. We recognize that many people's lives continue to be devastated by hatred, prejudice, and inequality, therefore, as a compassionate and caring spiritual community we will stand with those who are adversely affected by injustice, alienation and oppression.

Now, having served as Co-Leader for the Open & Affirming Ministry Team of my denomination, I have seen many powerful statements of welcome and inclusion. One thing these statements all have in common is naming who is included in welcome, naming groups that have often been excluded from communion and ministry within the church. What makes this statement particularly strong is that it acknowledges that just because RWUC welcomes all people does not mean that justice prevails. Instead it says that there is still much work to be done, both within the church and in the outside world, and this community is committed to doing that work.

Understand why I feel so comfortable there?

a place for my soul to rest

In the past three years, I have moved as many times, crossing state or national borders each time. This last move was especially hard because I did not have a supportive faith community. My denomination does exist here, but it is not the same denomination I came from in the States. And most often I do not feel as if there is a place for me (a liberal, heretical, WOMAN pastor) here within my church.

This has caused much grief and sorrow as my denomination was one I CHOSE as an adult, one that allowed and encouraged me to bring my questions and my doubts, one that didn't require me to check my brain at the door, one that nurtured me and sustained me through my education and first decade of ministry. And now, I fear I may have to leave.

In many ways, the Unitarian Universalist Church would be an obvious fit for me. 1) On days when I profess a belief in god, I am more unitarian than trinitarian, and 2) If I consider the possibility of heaven, I would have to put myself into the universalist understanding of salvation. Unitarian? Check. Universalist? Check. And the UUs are so lefty and liberal. I love their commitment to social justice and to peace and the environment. And my Beloved is UU. So it should be a perfect fit. Except...

I am christian. At least, I am culturally christian. I may not take the stories in the christian scriptures to be literal truth, but they are my stories, the ones I grew up with, and the ones that resonate with metaphorical truth within my soul. Some of the christian stories I adore. And many I abhor. But they are the stories I know. I appreciate the sacred stories of other traditions, and I can find truth and meaning within them. But they are not my stories. They are not the ones which quiet the storms in my life or sing to my soul.

And I love christian liturgy, the hymns, the candles, the smells and bells, the familiar words, the stand-up-here-sit-down-there. There is a rhythm to it, and it matches the rhythm of my life. It's what I know.

When I visit the UU churches with Craig, I love the engaging conversations. I love the passionate commitment to serving on behalf of the others and the world. I love the diversity of thoughts, opinions, and perspectives (though not too diverse, not many conservative attend UU churches). But I miss the liturgy. And while the conversations are challenging and engaging, they are not engaging my stories.

What I really want is the intellectually rigorous sermons I heard preached in the churches of my denomination back in the States. What I want is to hear somebody wrestle with my stories, really wrestle with them: to explore the historical and cultural context in which the texts were written, to examine the original languages and see what might have been lost in translation, to ask whether there is meaning in these ancient texts for contemporary followers, and to empower listeners (i.e. me) to respond.

~~~~~
From my apartment, I can see the steeples of two churches just blocks from where I love (when asked about my religious views, I should give this answer sometime). One of these churches is Robertson-Wesley United Church. Earlier this spring, I knew I wanted liturgy for the first Sunday of Lent, so walked down the block, through the park, and through an alleyway, and slipped into the pews for a wonderful reflection (by both ministers!) on the idea of "journey". In the bulletin, I saw an announcement for a bible study which I attended several times in cognito. I have worshipped there on several other occasions since.

I was initially disappointed on Pentecost (my favorite liturgical holiday) when instead of the Pentecost story, the minister began a series on, of all things, the doctrine of the trinity! But the sermon was fascinating - giving the history of the doctrine, acknowledging the lack of biblical support for the concept of a three-for-one, I mean three-in-one god. It was challenging, inspiring, uncomfortable, and I LOVED it. I may not be a trinitarian christian, but I can certainly appreciate how many people find meaning in understanding divine revelation in three different ways. I personally think the number three is limiting, but I get that others appreciate it. And this is pretty much what was said from the pulpit at Robertson-Wesley!!! "We don't need to chuck the whole thing out, but let's understand why people, why our tradition, thinks this is important, and you can decide for yourself if this is meaningful for you."

Yes, this is a place where my soul can rest. After these many years and many moves, this is what my soul is needing. And I think I may have found some companions for the journey.

National Day of Prayer

Today is the National Day of Prayer in the US. In honor of this day (which I feel pushes the boundaries of the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment of the US Constitution), Unreasonable Faith published this quote by a "Founding Father".

When a religion is good, I conceive it will support itself; and when it does not support itself, and God does not take care to support it so that its professors are obliged to call for help of the civil power, ‘tis a sign, I apprehend, of its being a bad one.
—Benjamin Franklin

Thoughts?

More on Torture

CNN reports that the more religious a person is, the more likely s/he supports torture:

More than half of people who attend services at least once a week -- 54 percent -- said the use of torture against suspected terrorists is "often" or "sometimes" justified. Only 42 percent of people who "seldom or never" go to services agreed, according to the analysis released Wednesday by the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life.

As one who opposes the use of torture, I find this disturbing. Why are the religious faithful more willing to suport torture than the "godless, immoral heathens"? What does this say about religious faith? Is anyone else troubled by this?

lacking communion

How many times have I come to this table? How many times have I taken this bread, blessed it, broken it, and given it out? How many times have I told the story of Jesus sharing the Passover meal with his disciples in that upper room? My theology, my understanding of God, is centered around this table. My ecclesiology, my understanding of church and community, is centered around this table. I have preached sermons about this table. I have composed songs about this table. I have written fiction and poetry about this table. So I should be able to crank out a sermon for Maundy Thursday with no problem, right? But you know, it doesn't work that way. In preparation for tonight's message, I have been pondering this table, reflecting on this loaf, contemplating this cup, and I realize: I have absolutely no idea what it means.

So began my sermon for Maundy Thursday. Somehow it all came together for a message that the few who gathered there seemed to find meaningful. But how I struggled with it.

It's hard to preach on communion when you feel as if you are not in communion with the folks gathered, with the tradition, with Church, with God.

Don't get me wrong, I feel tremendously blessed to have such rich communion in my life - with my partner, with our friends, with our COMMUNity, with my family. But I just don't get that from the church or from religion these days. For years, my spirituality has been shaped around communion. So with the face of communion changing in my life, I need to figure out what that means in terms of my spirituality. Or if I even want to articulate my sense of communion in spiritual terms anymore.

my shoulders hurt

My new favorite blog is Unreasonable Faith, which tells of a former Christian's journey from fundamentalist faith into skepticism. Recently, guest blogger vorjack posted an amazing essay which resonated deep within me. It begins with this quote:

Most of the advanced schools of theology, feeling less adequate in a time of science's empirical miracles and permanent, mathematical truths, protected themselves with scaled-down promises and vague imitations of the scientific method....

Theology, which had once ruled all science as well as all being, was resorting to more and more elaborate shrugs.

Taylor Branch, Parting the Waters, 91.

Vorjack then goes on to describe his personal journey from "unreflective" moderate Christianity to the liberal Christianity he found when reading the writings of Spong, Borg and the like...

I have to admit, there was a sense of relief to the transition. Finally I was finding a way to be Christian that didn’t inflict cognitive dissonance. But the price of that was a Christianity that was vague and maddeningly complex. Spong called it a state of “radical uncertainty” — I called it exhausting.

Christianity had become a series of increasingly elaborate shrugs, and after four or five years my shoulders were worn out.

Wow, my shoulders are also exhausted. I have been journeying through liberal Christianity for well over a decade now. And while at times, the communities with whom I have encountered have been nourishing and supportive, right now, I feel disconnected and isolated. And I have experienced the liberal church being as dysfunctional and abusive as our conservative counterparts. I guess I didn't mind the shrugging so much when I was in the fellowship of other skeptics. Those reciprocal back rubs surely helped. But alone, my shoulders hurt.

Sunday Morning

So, one of us is the heathen, the other the hypocrite. Guess which one I am?

time out

Sally at revgalblogpals writes:

Holy Week is almost upon us, I suspect that ordained or not, other revgal/pals calendars look a bit like mine, FULL, FULL, FULL........

Jesus was great at teaching us to take time out, even in that last week, right up to Maundy Thursday he withdrew, John's gospel tells us he hid! He hid not because he was afraid, but because he knew that he needed physical, mental and spiritual strength to get through...

So faced with a busy week:

1. What restores you physically? Sleep. After a night on-call at the hospital which included a two hour call at 3am, I am in need to physical restoration. Also yoga. And walking. And sex.

2. What strengthens you emotionally/mentally? Friendships. Genuine, engaging friendships. Friendships filled with laughter, authenticity, challenge, vulnerability, acceptance, and love. The type of friendship Dar Williams sings about in her song "Arrival":

My friends give me purple flowers and orange tea
On goosedown spilling quilts and turquoise chairs
We greet each other in a wild profusion of words
And wave farewell amidst the wonderment of air
And in the laughing times we know that we are lucky
And in the quiet times we know that we are blessed
And we will not be alone

This verse always makes me think of my friend Amy's dorm room in Brown Hall.

3. What encourages you spiritually? Friendships (see above). And interestingly, the myriad skeptical/atheist blogs I read.

4. Share a favourite poem or piece of music from the coming week. Six years ago, I wrote a hymn for Palm Sunday. You can find the text here on my old blog.

5.There may be many services for you to attend/lead over the next week, which one are you most looking forward to and why? If there aren't do you have a favourite day in Holy week if so which one is it? My theology is very eucharistic, centered around the communion table. So I LOVE Maundy Thursday. Fortunately, I will be preaching at one of the two Disciples churches in Edmonton on that evening. It will be the frist time I have presided at the communion table in months. I have been feeling so disconnected from my denomination, the wider Church, and religion in general these days - utterly lacking in communion with my tradition, despite frequent church attendance. So, this could be a homecoming of sorts. Or it could be an affirmation that I can't go home again. Or I could realize that I no longer want to call that space home. We'll see...