hermionesviolin: an image of Buffy from the episode "Once More With Feeling," looking to the left away from the viewer, with flames in the background, with orange animated text "I want the FIRE back / so I will walk through the FIRE" (fire)
2009-06-02 09:45 pm

"I'm not gonna light your tongue on fire -- TODAY." -LizL.

I've been thinking about Pentecost a lot recently.

Later last week, I came across an entry on the "When love comes to town" blog -- "Pentecost, peace and grace..."

I don't like the color-and-image-heavy formatting, so I am definitely not replicating it all here for you, but here's an excerpt:
How does John’s gospel for today put it?

“I still have many things to tell you,” Jesus said, “but you can't handle them now. But when the Friend comes, the Spirit of the Truth, he will take you by the hand and guide you into all the truth there is. He won't draw attention to himself, but will make sense out of what is going on… indeed, out of all that I have done and said. He will honor me; he will take from me and deliver it to you. Everything the Father has is mine. That is why I've said, 'He takes from me and delivers to you.

And then he concludes with these words: Fix this firmly in your minds: You're going to be in deep mourning while the godless world throws a party. You'll be sad – very sad – but your pain will turn into joy.

Did you hear that? God will be sending Christ’s friend to us – the Holy Spirit – the Spirit of Truth – and the Spirit will come to us and comfort us so that our pain might be turned into joy. And that is what an adult Pentecost is all about, it seems to me: learning how to live and nourish the Spirit within and among us so that we might experience Christ’s joy.

Pentecost, writes Jim Callahan, is not the birthday of the church; that probably happened on Good Friday when Jesus was hanging on the Cross and pleading with God that we might be forgiven for sins we couldn’t even name or imagine. No Pentecost is God’s reply to Good Friday – a day of great joy, power, fire and spirit – that isn’t reserved just for Jesus alone but is poured out upon all of the faithful disciples. How does the book of Acts put it?

When the Feast of Pentecost came, the faithful were all together in one place. Without warning there was a sound like a strong wind, gale force—no one could tell where it came from. It filled the whole building. Then, like a wildfire, the Holy Spirit spread through their ranks and they started speaking in a number of different languages as the Spirit prompted them. There were many others staying in Jerusalem just then, devout pilgrims from all over the world. And when they heard the sound, they came on the run… because one after another heard their own mother tongues being spoken. They couldn't for the life of them figure out what was going on, and kept saying, "Aren't these all Galileans? How come we're hearing them talk in our various mother tongues? Are they drunk?”

Strangers became kin folk on Pentecost. Frightened disciples became fearless evangelists on Pentecost. Women and men became equals on Pentecost. And everyone who experienced this revival could only talk about it like a banquet – or a beer fest – because the sadness was gone and joy filled the air. “In the midst of a numbingly sober and sour world, these women and men looked like a bunch of happy drunks,” Callahan writes, “because at last they knew that they were God’s beloved.”

Every last one of them experienced from the inside out that they were beloved by God just as Jesus had promised. What’s more they knew deep within that the heart of God was love – “not just in poetic theory, but in palpable fact.” They experienced, too, that in belonging to God they were not alone – they belonged to one another – in community. And the joy this gave them not only filled their hearts, “but gave them the inspiration to go out into the streets to heal and redeem.”

ExpandRead more... )
***

In looking at the Archives, I saw a post titled "What if God was one of us..." and wondered if it was like this post (responding to an Onion piece), but actually...

Excerpt:
Well, my friends, in case you haven’t guessed, today we’re going to be talking about Jesus: specifically I want to consider what the Cross of Jesus Christ has to tell us about God’s love and our humanity in these early hours of the 21st century. Theologian Douglas John Hall writes that: The cross of Jesus Christ represents simultaneously a high estimate of the human creature, a grave realism concerning human alienation, and the compassionate determination of God to bring humankind to the realization of our potential for authenticity.

Did you get all that? In the tongue of popular culture, we’re going to think about three essential insights in the Cross:

+ God’s deep love for us as beings created in the Lord’s image

+ The profound pain we cause through our alienation

+ And the relentless compassion of God’s grace

Are you with me? Love, pain and grace – or as Hall writes – our experience of being created, fallen and lifted: a new/old encounter with the Cross of Jesus Christ for our generation. So let’s see where this conversation might take us, ok?

ExpandRead more... )
I don't really see that the Cross per se tells us these things, but I do affirm these things.

***

I wasn't that taken with most of the Pentecost stuff from actual Pentecost Sunday this year, but one of the things I liked best was from LizL's Children's Time.  She said she had been trying to program her husband's radio alarm clock but it wasn't working, and she asked the kids what they might try if they were having that problem.  One kid said, "I would check if it's turned on or plugged in."  And indeed that was exactly the problem.  She said, "It's very important to plug in electrical appliances before you try to program them."
It actually reminds me somewhat of the Pentecost blogpost I quoted above.

During Coffee Hour, LizL. and I joked that she should have a red sparkly stole.  When I was telling Carolyn this before CWM, I said it made me want to obtain/create a red sparkly shirt with flames on it to wear for Pentecost next year, and she said, "If you wear that, I'll wear my red sparkly bra...under something see-through."  I said, "It's a deal!"

***

At the 3pm organ recital at FCS UCC, I sat in a pew by myself like I do.  Laura Ruth summoned me to sit with them.  So while she was off doing stuff I read the pieces of paper she had left, which was her reading copy of her day's sermon, "See My People Through."  From the end of the sermon:
When we are done, when we can’t go on any longer, when we are all dried up, when we’re toast, when we have put down the bags, spent our last dime, when we have woken up in someone’s bed and we don’t remember whose, when we have alienated our last friend and relative, when we have drunk everything in the house including the mouthwash, when we have stolen from those we love and been caught, when we are too ashamed to live anymore, when we have sold our birth rite, when we can’t remember our essential sweet goodness, when we have sold out our friends and family, when we have been conquered, when someone not interested in our welfare is occupying our heart, our homeland and our minds, God will blow life back into us.

Even though we are a heap of desiccated bones, if we watch and notice, God will bring us back to life. God will help us to reassemble ourselves, to grow into the people God made us to be, humans whose essence is the same essence of God.

And more than that, and it is the story of that day of Pentecost, if we remember to ask for the presence of God, she will come and not only save us, but give us the gifts we need to heal and to become like Jesus, bring justice, she will set us free to be fully human, fully free.
hermionesviolin: a close-up crop of a Laurel Long illustration of a lion, facing serenely to one side (Aslan)
2009-05-14 10:46 pm

// you said "It's a flower," and I tried to remember, but I said, "What's a flower?" //

At CAUMC small group tonight, we read a portion of the "Blessed" section of Henri Nouwen's Life of the Beloved.

Excerpts:
For me, personally, prayer becomes more and more a way to listen to the blessing.  I have read and written much about prayer, but when I go to a quiet place to pray, I realize that, although I have a tendency to say many things to God, the real "work" of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says good things about me.  This might sound self-indulgent, but, in practice, it is a hard discipline.  [...]  To gently push aside and silence the many voices that question my goodness and to trust that I will hear a voice of blessing --- that demands real effort.  [...]  It is not easy to enter the silence and reach beyond the many boisterous and demanding voices of our world and to discover there the small intimate voice saying: "You are my Beloved Child, on you my favor rests."  [...]  Often you will feel that nothing happens in your prayer.  You say: "I am just sitting there and getting distracted."  But if you develop the discipline of spending one half-hour a day listening to the voice of love, you will gradually discover that something is happening of which you were not even conscious.  It might be only in retrospect that you discover the voice that blesses you.
I was really struck by the idea of silent prayer as listening to the voice of love.  I'm familiar with the idea of listening to/for God during silent prayer, but I usually think of that as listening for God to tell you something, but of course just being in the Presence is valuable, and sometimes what God most wants to tell us is that we are Beloved.  (One could argue that what God always most wants to tell us is that we are Beloved.)
    My second suggestion for claiming your blessedness is the cultivation of presence.  By presence I mean attentiveness to the blessings that come to you day after day, year after year.  The problem of modern living is that we are too busy --- looking for affirmation in the wrong places? --- to notice that we are blessed.  Often, people say good things about us, but we brush them aside with remarks such as, "Oh, don't mention it, forget about it, it's nothing . . ." and so on.  These remarks may seem to be expressions of humility, but they are, in fact, signs that we are not truly present to receive the blessings that are given.  It is not easy for us busy people, to truly receive a blessing.  Perhaps the fact that few people offer a real blessing is the sad result of the absence of people who are willing and able to receive such a blessing.  It has become extremely difficult for us to stop, listen, pay attention, and receive gracefully what is offered to us.
I'd been thinking recently about how when people are really grateful to me and I respond by saying that what I did wasn't a big deal, that I diminish their experience, that I implicitly say that the thing I helped them with wasn't a big deal (even though that's not what I mean) and also that in refusing to accept their gratitude I was denying them the ability to give me a gift.
    Before concluding these thoughts about our being blessed, I must tell you that claiming your own blessedness always leads to a deep desire to bless others.  The characteristic of the blessed ones is that, wherever they go, they always speak words of blessing.  It is remarkable how easy it is to bless others, to speak good things to and about them, to call forth their beauty and truth, when you yourself are in touch with your own blessedness.  The blessed one always blesses.  And people want to be blessed!  This is so apparent wherever you go.  No one is brought to life through curse, gossip, accusations, or blaming.  There is so much of that taking place around us all the time.  And it calls forth only darkness, destruction, and death.  As the "blessed" ones, we can walk through this world and offer blessings.  It doesn't require much effort.  It flows naturally from our hearts.  When we hear within ourselves the voice calling us by name and blessing us, the darkness no longer distracts us.  The voice that calls us the Beloved will give us the words to bless others and reveal to them that they are no less blessed than we.
This last sentence...  L. called me last night, feeling really frustrated and overwhelmed and like her life is never going to amount to anything, and I refuse to say things that are definitive statements about the future that I can't actually guarantee (my Honesty Issues, let me show you them), so I just listened sympathetically and supportively, and I know that that's important, but I felt like giving her some actual words would be good, too.  I actually lifted that up as my Challenge this week during Affirmations -- to discern words to give to people who are in crisis.  She called again tonight (as we were getting ready to leave at the end of group), and I talked more than I had last night, mostly just affirming that yes this is a frustrating situation, but at one point she was saying she was a failure and I said really firmly, "You are not a failure.  You as a person, you as a human being, are not a failure.  This paper may be a failure, I am willing to concede that possibility, but you are more than the things you have done and not done."  Re: "You are more than the things you have done and not done," she said, "You may be one of two people who actually believes that about me," and I said that made me sad about the people she has in her life.  I was really grateful that I was able to offer her concrete words of affirmation to hold onto.
hermionesviolin: (light in the darkness)
2009-01-11 11:11 pm

"Do not be afraid; I am with you. I have called you each by name. [...] I will bring you home.

I love you and you are mine."

***

I went to Arlington Street Church (UU) with Jonah today.  It actually felt a lot like church, which was a pleasant surprise, though I don't expect to go back with any regularity -- "I'm too Christian for [this] UU church," I kept telling people.

The pastor opened her sermon by telling the Jacob story I have recently become a big fan of [Velveteen Rabbi: "Dreams, vows, and changes (Radical Torah repost)" and "And God descended (Radical Torah repost)"].  She was just telling the story, not reading a full-out Bible translation (as far as I could tell), but it didn't feel excessively modern-language-ized (*cough*Glide*cough*).  I was particularly struck by the phrasing, "He was terrified -- 'God is in this place and I knew it not.' "
    Some stand-out lines from her sermon: "We dream of houses where heaven and earth meet ... we give gifts so others may live and so make heaven on earth."  And a quote from George O'Dell about how we need community, including in times of temptation "to be recalled to our better selves."
    She talked about Martin Luther King, Jr., and how he and the folks who worked with him went to church all the time.  She talked about how after tragedy after tragedy, people instinctively went to church -- because "where else would we be?"  The whole time she was talking about MLK I was having this cognitive disconnect of, "But his church was not your church -- he sought not just the 'beloved community' but God and Jesus."

I kept telling people, "I'm just here for today."  One woman said, "Visiting from out of town?" and I laughed and said, "No, from out of church."  With clear surprise, she said, "A lapsed UU?"  Before I could say anything, Liz (who was our ASL interpreter at CWM) said, "No, a very faithful Methodist."  I laughed and said, "Yes, among other denominations."

***

It was good to come "home" -- i.e., to CWM.  Though L. came with me (we had our group project meeting in between my two rounds of church), so  I found myself paying attention to how someone who didn't grow up Christian, doesn't self-identify as Christian, and has minimal experience in Christian worship services would experience the service (including how clear the printed bulletin is in indicated how/when we do things, which is something I haven't thought about in a long time because now that it's "home" I'm for the most part out of the habit of paying attention to how welcoming it is to newbies).

It was Baptism of Jesus Sunday [Mark 1:4-11].  Tiffany talked about how the next scene in Mark's narrative is Jesus' Temptation -- how Jesus was able to do all that he did because he understood his core identity as the beloved child of God.  She talked about how we base our identities (and worth) on lots of things -- e.g., our jobs, our relationships, our materials possessions, what people say about us -- but that who we truly are at our core, what never changes, is that we are beloved children of God.  She had us turn to our neighbor and say "You are the beloved child of God," and then "I am the beloved child of God" (with response: "Yes you are") and gave us "homework" to every day this week look at ourselves in the mirror (yes, you can put makeup on or whatever first if you want) and say, "I am the beloved child of God."

"You are a bright, brilliant, beloved child of God -- and you are beautiful to behold."

[sermon: blogpost version -- has some substantial differences from the version she preached tonight]

[I also recently read Jeremy's recent post about baptism, which I haven't processed sufficiently to have thoughts on.]

***

My housemate was just like, "Hey, did you see this post on the davis_square livejournal community?"