Weekly Recap for Tuesday, December 1, 2015 - ProgressiveChristianity.org of Gig Harbor, Washington, United StatesFree Weekly Recap of our most viewed and new resources from last week.
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We delved into the topics of Microaffection, Gratitude, Heaven and God's Image.
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Microaffection
Jim Burklo
... to make kindness and respect so ingrained in my soul that they are automatic responses in moments of emotional challenge.
READ ON ...
... to make kindness and respect so ingrained in my soul that they are automatic responses in moments of emotional challenge.
READ ON ...
“MICROAGGRESSION: a subtle but offensive comment or action directed at a minority or other nondominant group that is often unintentional or unconsciously reinforces a stereotype: microaggressions such as ‘I don’t see you as black.'” — Dictionary.com
Eight years ago, I experienced a five-month period of unemployment – my first stint of that unnerving status in my entire adult life. To put it mildly, it was a bracing experience, a cold shower every day. I pumped out my resume continually. I made phone calls that were never answered, sent out emails that evaporated in the aether. People who did promise to call back never did. People who did promise to email back never did. And repeatedly I experienced microagression about my age. “We’re looking for someone who can attract young families with kids,” I was told by way of rejection for the job of pastor at two churches. They said it matter-of-factly, apparently without any intention of insulting me or hurting my feelings. Not only was it illegal and unethical, it was untrue. Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m a kid-magnet, a walking jungle-Jim with small people dangling off my arms and legs. Kids don’t care how old you are. They care if you pay attention to them and follow their lead in play and conversation. It’s a rare day when I get “age-ist” microagression from children – even now as I’m eight years older and balder.
I am treated very well by others almost all the time. (Surely this has nothing to do with the fact that I’m a white male who grew up in a comfortable middle-class family?) So in the rare moments when that’s not the case, I lack practice in responding gracefully. I had to build up new spiritual muscles to deal with disrespect when I was unemployed. If what happened to me was anything like what black and Hispanic people constantly experience as microagression, I can imagine the challenge of managing the emotions these incidents would stir up. Should we be shocked if people who suffer mindless, insulting zingers in everyday conversation don’t always respond cheerfully? The cumulative spiritual impact of such incidents adds up to a social problem that is indeed worthy of protest on college campuses and elsewhere.
“MICROAFFECTION: a subtle but endearing or comforting comment or action directed at others that is often unintentional or unconsciously affirms their worth and dignity, without any hint of condescension.” — JimBurklo.com
Part of the response to microagression is education. We need to be intentional about preventing ourselves from unintentionally demeaning categories of people in ways that can make them feel marginalized. We need to listen to those who are on the receiving end of such encounters, so we’ll know not what not to say and not to do.
And another response is the cultivation of microaffection: priming ourselves for moments when, spontaneously, we go out of our way to make others feel like they are dignified, respectable, truly beloved members of society. It takes forethought in order to be able to offer kindness without forethought. It takes spiritual discipline to make it automatic for us to share warmth with people just because they’re people.
Microaffection came my way last week. I was riding my beach bike across campus. It’s called the OMbulance: I put a sign on the front of the basket, surrounded by the symbols of the world’s religions. In a spiritual emergency at USC, who ya gonna call? As I was riding, one of my shoelaces got spun around in the pedal. There I was, trapped on my bike at an obscure corner of the campus, unable even to dismount it to fix the problem. A gentleman came along with a big smile on his face and asked if I needed help. “Oh yes!” I answered, and before I could say more, he untangled my shoelace from the pedal and walked away, wishing me well. He helped me in a way that reduced, rather than increased, my sense of embarrassment in my predicament.
I have work to do, myself, to make kindness and respect so ingrained in my soul that they are automatic responses in moments of emotional challenge. Universities and institutions of all kinds have work to do, also, to create atmospheres that inculcate this kind of mindfulness, to prevent microagression and to encourage microaffection.
--------------
JIM BURKLO
Website: JIMBURKLO.COM Weblog: MUSINGS Follow me on twitter: @jtburklo
See a video interview about my new novel, SOULJOURN
See the GUIDE to my articles and books
Associate Dean of Religious Life, University of Southern California
----------------------
Living with Gratitude in an Imperfect WorldCommunity Christian Church
No one can claim to have achieved success on their own without acknowledging the wealth inherited from Native Americans ... African slaves and Chinese laborers. We are all connected ...
Read On ...
No one in the 21st century can claim to have achieved success on their own without acknowledging the wealth inherited from Native Americans who died by the millions from European illnesses (and at the end of rifles) and from the infrastructure built by African slaves and captured Chinese laborers. We are all connected and we all have an obligation to pay it forward.”
Roger Ray’s progressive sermons are available as podcasts for free at:https://goo.gl/3t0HBN
---------------------
Heaven on Earth
Heaven on Earth
A Thanksgiving Reflection in the Midst of a Terrorized World
John Bennison
And I’m done with any notion of a heaven that is anywhere else than on the face of this earth; with whatever we make of it, and for the time being.
READ ON ...
A pdf copy to print and read is HERE.
Come on everybody, for what it’s worth,
Come on, children, come on.
To have a heaven right here on earth,
Come on, children, come on.
Arlo Guthrie, Gabriel’s Mother Highway Ballad #16 Blues (1970)
Autumn is my favorite season of the year. The gingko tree that towers over our garage turns a vibrant yellow in a matter of days; and then drops about three billion leaves in the same amount of time, leaving the branches resembling a looming skeleton. But I know that tree is still on the growing edge of its natural life cycle, and in a few months it will begin to bud again. Then in the breezes that will surely come next summer, its new green coat will shimmer in the bright sunlight.
It’s not the same story for the old walnut in the backyard. Its companion that stood
And I’m done with any notion of a heaven that is anywhere else than on the face of this earth; with whatever we make of it, and for the time being.
READ ON ...
A pdf copy to print and read is HERE.
Come on everybody, for what it’s worth,
Come on, children, come on.
To have a heaven right here on earth,
Come on, children, come on.
Arlo Guthrie, Gabriel’s Mother Highway Ballad #16 Blues (1970)
Autumn is my favorite season of the year. The gingko tree that towers over our garage turns a vibrant yellow in a matter of days; and then drops about three billion leaves in the same amount of time, leaving the branches resembling a looming skeleton. But I know that tree is still on the growing edge of its natural life cycle, and in a few months it will begin to bud again. Then in the breezes that will surely come next summer, its new green coat will shimmer in the bright sunlight.
It’s not the same story for the old walnut in the backyard. Its companion that stood
beside it long before our house was built over a half century ago just up and died a few years back. When we cut it down, our neighbor was all too happy to take the firewood off our hands; reducing its remains to dust and ashes over the coming winter months. Now each year I look at what I call the widower; wondering if it will live to see another spring, then summer and another fall.
Like many others, the Thanksgiving holiday is another reason I love autumn. And it’s not because it gives those of my generation another chance to tune in to the radio to hear Arlo Guthrie sing his 18+ minute soliloquy about Alice’s Restaurant. The occasion gives us the allocation of a few fleeting moments to pause and express appreciation for whatever we have; but only for the time being. As the poet, W.H. Auden put it,
Winter completes an age
With its thorough leveling;
Heaven’s tourbillions of rage
Abolish the watchman’s tower
And delete the cedar grove,
As winter completes an age …
(Chorus, For the Time Being, by W.H. Auden – “tourbillions” Fr. “whirlwind” “vortex”)
But for the time being, it is what it is. And that’s the truth. And it’s autumn. And there’s comfort and gladness to be found for the moment in the gathering of friends and family.
These are also the days I find myself unconsciously humming the tune to an old hymn, sung for so many autumn seasons that have come and gone before:
Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest home.
All is safely gathered in,
‘Ere the winter storms begin.
But frankly, while I am almost embarrassed to the point of forced humility by the sheer abundance of the kind of bounty and shelter I enjoy, I now stumble with more than a little skepticism over the next stanza:
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied.
Come to God’s own temple come,
Raise the song of harvest home.
What sticks in my throat are some inconvenient, nagging truths. It is that disconnect of disparity all around us. It is the glaring, obvious fact that there is no creator deity that “doth provide” for all, in a world half-flooded with excess and half-parched with destitution. And where illegals hide in the shadows of the homeland, while refugees roam other lands like lost and homeless herds.
There’s all that. And then there’s the other nudging reminder that a time will come when all my seasons will come to an end. Like the old walnut tree, all my perennial thanksgiving rituals will eventually end in dust and ashes. And if there is any true “harvest home,” it is not in some otherworldly realm, but in the here and now, and for the time being.
Woke up this mornin’ with my head in my hands,
Come on, children, come on.
Snow was a’fallin’ all over the land
Come on, children, come on.
Well I don’t know, but I’ve been told,
Come on, children, come on.
Streets of heaven have all been sold,
Come on, children, come on.
Arlo Guthrie, Gabriel’s Mother Highway Ballad #16 Blues
In a world either terrorized or abused by those who have little regard for it, it has become downright dangerous and nearly complicit, to encourage the illusory notion of any sweet by-and-by. If there is to be any knockin’ on heaven’s door, the place is always here, and the time is always now.
A few weeks ago, a pair of suicide bombings in Beirut, Lebanon killed over 40 people, including women and children. It made the daily news cycle, but what else is new? The easy assumption was that those people in that part of the world seem to be clearly out of control.
Twelve days before that, a Russian jetliner was downed in the Sinai Peninsula by a bomb planted onboard, killing 224 people. However, before the definitive cause was determined, days of curiosity centered on speculation as to what kind of mechanical problem may have been at play; and what kind of fix might prevent any future problem for our own flying public.
Last week, a branch affiliate of the same terrorist group with which we’re all familiar, known as ISIS (or ISIL, or Daesh, take you pick), claimed responsibility for the suicide attack at a Radisson Hotel in Bamako, Mali, where 21 people died. But let’s be honest about it. Before then, how many of us had ever heard of a place called Bamako?
It was only when ISIL attacked “The City of Lights” in the heart of France, and all hell seemed to break loose, that the Western world seemed more than a little dismayed by all the mayhem. The U.S. media descended upon Paris with 24/7 news coverage; in order to follow every possible detail over and over again, with one lingering concern. If it could happen there, it could happen here.
“When my people died, no country bothered to light up its landmarks in the colors of their flag,” Elie Fares, a Lebanese doctor was quoted as saying [N.Y.Times, Nov. 15, 2015]. “When my people died, they did not send the world into mourning. Their death was but an irrelevant fleck along the international news cycle, something that happens in those parts of the world.”
In the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty there are the usual calls for action, so that “it can never happen here” or “never happen again.” At the same time, others acknowledge the harder truth of the matter. Any assurance that this strategy or that solution could provide even a faint sense of security is an alluring falsehood. There is plenty of criticism, without any good alternatives in a world where the lesser of two bad choices seems to be the all there is. But perhaps there is also more than a little fallacious thinking going around with regard to the human imagination’s conceptualization of “heaven.”
All of the proposed solutions to fix the predicament in which we find ourselves are probably as numerous as the search for the root causes of why terrorists devalue the sanctity of human life; to the extent they willingly sacrifice their own with an unmatched fervent zeal. We wonder in bewilderment, how an American youth from Minnesota could get so “radicalized” by a distorted, religiously-infused ideology that they’d slip away to join a crusade on the other side of the world and die; telling their mothers as they leave they’ll meet them again in paradise.
While there are probably a lot of different things that contribute to this seemingly incomprehensible phenomenon, there’s one component that seems uncomfortably clear. Whatever fear we may feel in response to the kind of terror that strikes closer to home, we might do well to also consider a common religious belief that is rooted in something that is altogether home grown, and has been for a long time; namely, the hope of something better in a next world. And, because it is part of the stuff of what is taken to be mainstream religious thinking in this regard, we may only have ourselves to blame.
In a more profound way I’ve come to consider how the apocalyptic component in the three Abrahamic religious traditions promulgates such a destructive notion; that has only become more clearly obvious with the extreme actions of radicalized terrorists, who are as unreflective about their religious beliefs as they are committed to adamantly advance them. The disconnect between the sanctity of this life and the illusory promise of a so-called next life is only made more obvious by those who want to hasten, even welcome, the actualization of such a belief equally held by so many others.
Peddling the notion of a blissful afterlife — even to the point of those extreme apocalyptic views of those unwilling to wait for it — is something that is as much woven into the fabric of unreflective American religion as ever. If the allure of self-immortality seems harmless enough, consider once again the dangerous consequences of those obviously willing to act upon it.
Attend a funeral conducted by even a moderate mainline Christian denomination, and you’re likely to hear assuring words of about a heavenly mansion with many rooms, and a place a co-eternal Jesus has prepared for those who truly love him (John 14). While there are those who seem to take such imagery as a literal guarantee of accommodations, I’ve always conditioned the intention of the message in a different sort of temporal term, with the emphasis on the “truly loving” portion of the passage. It is the gospel imperative that heaven can’t wait; that it is nowhere to be found, if not in the here and now. And here and now it seems to be woefully missing.
Two days after the Paris attacks, a friend of mine related a personal story that, to me, sums up both the misbegotten notion that has been perpetuated in our own faith tradition far too long; along with the truth that I believe is the truth of the matter, in all of its simplicity:
“My wife and I attended the funeral of a good man yesterday,” my friend said. “Jeff was our auto mechanic for the past ten years. He was honest, caring, a friend to all. The family members who spoke assured everyone that he was received into the arms of Jesus, and is now in heaven. Quotes from John’s gospel were assumed to be the words of Jesus. Even a quote from Revelation – that last book of the New Testament that is itself an apocalyptic nightmare of a battle by those presumed to be the righteous saved and the unrighteous damned — was offered as something Jesus promised.”
My friend continued, “Then a young woman stood up to eulogize the man. And, in so doing, she came closer to the truth about our friend. She remembered fondly how she and her playmates would take their bicycles and skateboards to the mechanics shop, where he would repair them for free.”
Since none of us can say with any certainty whatsoever what I often refer to as “that unknown reality from whence we have all come,” all I can honestly say is this. Considering all those most authentic, very earthy and non-religious parables Jesus used to try to describe a “reign of God” – or, if you prefer, “kingdom of heaven” – they all seemed to be very much of this earth, and the stuff of daily life.
Come on, Gabriel, blow that thing
Come on, children, come on
All God’s children got to dance and sing
Come on, children, come on
All the children got to sing and shout
Come on, children, come on
There ain’t nobody ’round bound to kick you out
Come on, children, come on.
Come on everybody, for what it’s worth,
Come on, children, come on.
To have a heaven right here on earth,
Come on, children, come on.
Arlo Guthrie, Gabriel’s Mother Highway Ballad #16 Blues (1970)
I do not believe in any afterlife of my own. And I’m done with any notion of a heaven that is anywhere else than on the face of this earth; with whatever we make of it, and for the time being.
The poet, Robert Browning, once wrote, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?” The painfully obvious fact that we have so utterly failed to grasp such a paradise, does not yet mean we should hold back our reach of it.
And if, and when, there is ever to be such a place as a heaven, perhaps it’ll look a little like a mechanic’s garage; with a couple of kid’s bicycles propped outside, and the echo of some raucous laughter within.© 2015 by John William Bennison, Rel.D. All rights reserved.
This article should only be used or reproduced with proper credit.
To read more commentaries by John Bennison from the perspective of a Christian progressive go to
http://wordsnways.com
http://thechristianprogressive.com
---------------------
Weekly Liturgy
Like many others, the Thanksgiving holiday is another reason I love autumn. And it’s not because it gives those of my generation another chance to tune in to the radio to hear Arlo Guthrie sing his 18+ minute soliloquy about Alice’s Restaurant. The occasion gives us the allocation of a few fleeting moments to pause and express appreciation for whatever we have; but only for the time being. As the poet, W.H. Auden put it,
Winter completes an age
With its thorough leveling;
Heaven’s tourbillions of rage
Abolish the watchman’s tower
And delete the cedar grove,
As winter completes an age …
(Chorus, For the Time Being, by W.H. Auden – “tourbillions” Fr. “whirlwind” “vortex”)
But for the time being, it is what it is. And that’s the truth. And it’s autumn. And there’s comfort and gladness to be found for the moment in the gathering of friends and family.
These are also the days I find myself unconsciously humming the tune to an old hymn, sung for so many autumn seasons that have come and gone before:
Come, ye thankful people, come,
Raise the song of harvest home.
All is safely gathered in,
‘Ere the winter storms begin.
But frankly, while I am almost embarrassed to the point of forced humility by the sheer abundance of the kind of bounty and shelter I enjoy, I now stumble with more than a little skepticism over the next stanza:
God, our Maker, doth provide
For our wants to be supplied.
Come to God’s own temple come,
Raise the song of harvest home.
What sticks in my throat are some inconvenient, nagging truths. It is that disconnect of disparity all around us. It is the glaring, obvious fact that there is no creator deity that “doth provide” for all, in a world half-flooded with excess and half-parched with destitution. And where illegals hide in the shadows of the homeland, while refugees roam other lands like lost and homeless herds.
There’s all that. And then there’s the other nudging reminder that a time will come when all my seasons will come to an end. Like the old walnut tree, all my perennial thanksgiving rituals will eventually end in dust and ashes. And if there is any true “harvest home,” it is not in some otherworldly realm, but in the here and now, and for the time being.
Woke up this mornin’ with my head in my hands,
Come on, children, come on.
Snow was a’fallin’ all over the land
Come on, children, come on.
Well I don’t know, but I’ve been told,
Come on, children, come on.
Streets of heaven have all been sold,
Come on, children, come on.
Arlo Guthrie, Gabriel’s Mother Highway Ballad #16 Blues
In a world either terrorized or abused by those who have little regard for it, it has become downright dangerous and nearly complicit, to encourage the illusory notion of any sweet by-and-by. If there is to be any knockin’ on heaven’s door, the place is always here, and the time is always now.
A few weeks ago, a pair of suicide bombings in Beirut, Lebanon killed over 40 people, including women and children. It made the daily news cycle, but what else is new? The easy assumption was that those people in that part of the world seem to be clearly out of control.
Twelve days before that, a Russian jetliner was downed in the Sinai Peninsula by a bomb planted onboard, killing 224 people. However, before the definitive cause was determined, days of curiosity centered on speculation as to what kind of mechanical problem may have been at play; and what kind of fix might prevent any future problem for our own flying public.
Last week, a branch affiliate of the same terrorist group with which we’re all familiar, known as ISIS (or ISIL, or Daesh, take you pick), claimed responsibility for the suicide attack at a Radisson Hotel in Bamako, Mali, where 21 people died. But let’s be honest about it. Before then, how many of us had ever heard of a place called Bamako?
It was only when ISIL attacked “The City of Lights” in the heart of France, and all hell seemed to break loose, that the Western world seemed more than a little dismayed by all the mayhem. The U.S. media descended upon Paris with 24/7 news coverage; in order to follow every possible detail over and over again, with one lingering concern. If it could happen there, it could happen here.
“When my people died, no country bothered to light up its landmarks in the colors of their flag,” Elie Fares, a Lebanese doctor was quoted as saying [N.Y.Times, Nov. 15, 2015]. “When my people died, they did not send the world into mourning. Their death was but an irrelevant fleck along the international news cycle, something that happens in those parts of the world.”
In the midst of all the chaos and uncertainty there are the usual calls for action, so that “it can never happen here” or “never happen again.” At the same time, others acknowledge the harder truth of the matter. Any assurance that this strategy or that solution could provide even a faint sense of security is an alluring falsehood. There is plenty of criticism, without any good alternatives in a world where the lesser of two bad choices seems to be the all there is. But perhaps there is also more than a little fallacious thinking going around with regard to the human imagination’s conceptualization of “heaven.”
All of the proposed solutions to fix the predicament in which we find ourselves are probably as numerous as the search for the root causes of why terrorists devalue the sanctity of human life; to the extent they willingly sacrifice their own with an unmatched fervent zeal. We wonder in bewilderment, how an American youth from Minnesota could get so “radicalized” by a distorted, religiously-infused ideology that they’d slip away to join a crusade on the other side of the world and die; telling their mothers as they leave they’ll meet them again in paradise.
While there are probably a lot of different things that contribute to this seemingly incomprehensible phenomenon, there’s one component that seems uncomfortably clear. Whatever fear we may feel in response to the kind of terror that strikes closer to home, we might do well to also consider a common religious belief that is rooted in something that is altogether home grown, and has been for a long time; namely, the hope of something better in a next world. And, because it is part of the stuff of what is taken to be mainstream religious thinking in this regard, we may only have ourselves to blame.
In a more profound way I’ve come to consider how the apocalyptic component in the three Abrahamic religious traditions promulgates such a destructive notion; that has only become more clearly obvious with the extreme actions of radicalized terrorists, who are as unreflective about their religious beliefs as they are committed to adamantly advance them. The disconnect between the sanctity of this life and the illusory promise of a so-called next life is only made more obvious by those who want to hasten, even welcome, the actualization of such a belief equally held by so many others.
Peddling the notion of a blissful afterlife — even to the point of those extreme apocalyptic views of those unwilling to wait for it — is something that is as much woven into the fabric of unreflective American religion as ever. If the allure of self-immortality seems harmless enough, consider once again the dangerous consequences of those obviously willing to act upon it.
Attend a funeral conducted by even a moderate mainline Christian denomination, and you’re likely to hear assuring words of about a heavenly mansion with many rooms, and a place a co-eternal Jesus has prepared for those who truly love him (John 14). While there are those who seem to take such imagery as a literal guarantee of accommodations, I’ve always conditioned the intention of the message in a different sort of temporal term, with the emphasis on the “truly loving” portion of the passage. It is the gospel imperative that heaven can’t wait; that it is nowhere to be found, if not in the here and now. And here and now it seems to be woefully missing.
Two days after the Paris attacks, a friend of mine related a personal story that, to me, sums up both the misbegotten notion that has been perpetuated in our own faith tradition far too long; along with the truth that I believe is the truth of the matter, in all of its simplicity:
“My wife and I attended the funeral of a good man yesterday,” my friend said. “Jeff was our auto mechanic for the past ten years. He was honest, caring, a friend to all. The family members who spoke assured everyone that he was received into the arms of Jesus, and is now in heaven. Quotes from John’s gospel were assumed to be the words of Jesus. Even a quote from Revelation – that last book of the New Testament that is itself an apocalyptic nightmare of a battle by those presumed to be the righteous saved and the unrighteous damned — was offered as something Jesus promised.”
My friend continued, “Then a young woman stood up to eulogize the man. And, in so doing, she came closer to the truth about our friend. She remembered fondly how she and her playmates would take their bicycles and skateboards to the mechanics shop, where he would repair them for free.”
Since none of us can say with any certainty whatsoever what I often refer to as “that unknown reality from whence we have all come,” all I can honestly say is this. Considering all those most authentic, very earthy and non-religious parables Jesus used to try to describe a “reign of God” – or, if you prefer, “kingdom of heaven” – they all seemed to be very much of this earth, and the stuff of daily life.
Come on, Gabriel, blow that thing
Come on, children, come on
All God’s children got to dance and sing
Come on, children, come on
All the children got to sing and shout
Come on, children, come on
There ain’t nobody ’round bound to kick you out
Come on, children, come on.
Come on everybody, for what it’s worth,
Come on, children, come on.
To have a heaven right here on earth,
Come on, children, come on.
Arlo Guthrie, Gabriel’s Mother Highway Ballad #16 Blues (1970)
I do not believe in any afterlife of my own. And I’m done with any notion of a heaven that is anywhere else than on the face of this earth; with whatever we make of it, and for the time being.
The poet, Robert Browning, once wrote, “Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?” The painfully obvious fact that we have so utterly failed to grasp such a paradise, does not yet mean we should hold back our reach of it.
And if, and when, there is ever to be such a place as a heaven, perhaps it’ll look a little like a mechanic’s garage; with a couple of kid’s bicycles propped outside, and the echo of some raucous laughter within.© 2015 by John William Bennison, Rel.D. All rights reserved.
This article should only be used or reproduced with proper credit.
To read more commentaries by John Bennison from the perspective of a Christian progressive go to
http://wordsnways.com
http://thechristianprogressive.com
---------------------
Weekly Liturgy
Week of: November 22, 2015
Images of God
What visual image have you created to capture your sense of the Sacred?
Images of God
What visual image have you created to capture your sense of the Sacred?
Most of us have let go of the God-metaphor from our childhoods — the old man with a beard who lives in the sky (aka “the Sistine Chapel God”). But we are such visual creatures that we almost can’t help ourselves, and we have to invent new pictures to take the place of the old one. A metaphor for our times, a visual image that is of help when we form our prayers or read our scriptures. My current favorite is God-as-force-field. Unseen yet pervasive, imminent and transcendent. What visual image have you created to capture your sense of the Sacred?READ ON ...
Worship Materials: Trinity
From the Festive Worship collection by William L. Wallace
THEME: The many and the one – Images of the imageless God.
THOUGHTS FOR REFLECTION
- Do not let the Christian doctrine of the Trinity alienate you from the oneness of God; for God is both the many and the one.
- While God has many faces, it is an act of idolatry to claim that any of these faces is all that we can know of God.
- Our logical mind may not he able to hold together the many and the one, the three and the one; but the wisdom of our spirit’s intuitive depth tells us all things belong together as one, despite their apparent separateness.
- To localize God in a heaven out there is idolatry. To confine God to the heaven within is idolatry. For God is in all and through all. (Ephesians 4:6)
- Humor is the antidote to idolatry and the pomposity which it spawns. It is only the God with whom we can laugh who can enable us to distinguish between the manifestations and the mystery itself.
- The Trinity is not so much a definition as an invitation to experience mystery.
- God is greater than any image; yet an imageless God appears lifeless to all human beings who have not allowed themselves to experience nothingness.
- When the images shatter we are left without the possibility of using our image of God as a justification for our behavior.
- What is the wisdom of the Trinity? It is the wisdom of the non-interfering, compassionate parent, the vulnerable child and the always present energizing spirit.
- God is both the centre and the circle, the weeping and the fun, the dancing and the stillness, the many and the one.
- We can describe the Godhead through reason but need intuition to experience the Godhead.
- Definition can produce idolatry but without description there is no incarnation of the divine.
- The image of the Trinity or three-ness, or triptych, seems to be embedded deep in the human psyche. Another example of it in the Bible is that of the child, the adult nurturer and the sage spelt out as follows: The creative child and youth: Jesus, Pharaoh’s daughter and Ruth The adult nurturer: Mary, Joseph and Elizabeth, Noah and his wife The reflective sage: Anna, Simon, John, Priscilla and Rahab
- The Trinity is better understood in terms of question rather than definition, as mystery rather than as dogma.
- In God the Creator we are one with the Earth. In God the Son we are one with all people. In God the Spirit we are one with everything.
- God is not a proposition to be debated but a presence to be experienced.
- God is essentially mystery and a mystery defined is a mystery destroyed.
- If you have experienced the presence of God you do not have to prove it. If you have to prove the existence of God it is likely that you have not experienced the presence.
- The shadow in God speaks of an inclusive God rather than a dualistic one.
- Every adult human being performs a number of roles, exhibits a number of faces. Some of these could be parent, offspring, partner, employer or employed, sportsperson, cook, gardener etc. Therefore it is totally reasonable to assume that the roles of God are infinitely more than those displayed in the concept of the Trinity.
PRAYERS
- O God whom no image can encompass, no definition encircle and yet who meets us in the gentle touch of love, the beauty of a butterfly’s wing and the laughter of children, help us to move beyond our attempts to limit you, intellectualize you or to eliminate you from all that is earthy, sensuous or vibrant so that we may greet you in every particle of this spectacular universe which you are creating.
- O God who is greater than any image yet who appears to us in many forms help us to move beyond definition to mystery, beyond the space of limitation to the glorious freedom of the children of God.
HYMNS
When masks of God both age and die. (BL)
Beyond the boxes we create. (BL)
When the world reveals a fractured face. (BL)
You are the process God. (BL)
O three-fold God.
www.methodist.org.nz/resources/hymns/boundlesslife
You are greater O God.
http://www.methodist.org.nz/resources/hymns/the_mystery_telling
Come let us dwell in that place.
http://www.methodist.org.nz/resources/hymns/the_mystery_telling
We are sisters of the earth.
http://www.methodist.org.nz/resources/hymns/the_mystery_telling
Your mystery, O God. (STS1)
God is beyond all words. (STS1)
What image shall I use? (STS2)
Singing the Sacred Vol 1 2011, Vol 2 2014 World Library Publications
POEMS / REFLECTIONS
THE TRINITY
(A Sequence for Human Development)
From Father/Mother Creator — being in touch with nature.
To Son — being in touch with our common humanity.
To Spirit— being in touch with all things everywhere
AN IMAGELESS GOD
If only we could discern the imageless God beyond all the images then history, dogma, liturgy would assume a new perspective. The many images, many certainties, many opposites would merge into the oneness of mystery; a mystery of forgiveness, delight and loving strength in the midst of death.
WHEN THE IMAGES DIE
When the images die
How shall I conceive of you, O God?
If I cannot picture your face
To whom shall I talk?
Must I depend on definition
Or can I commune with one
Who is beyond description
Yet manifest in all that is.
When the special language dies
Then I shall address you
In the sacredness of the every day
In the poetry of the heart
And in the music of my own soul.
THE TRINITY AS PROCESS
The traditional concept of God as three persons can lead to an anthropocentric view of God as three super human beings. This may have been helpful in the past but today we are having to re-evaluate the significance of human beings in our ever expanding cosmic setting. So to think of God only as three super human beings is hardly to do justice to the cosmic dimensions of the cosmic mystery. Actually it is inaccurate to speak of three persons in a literal sense as it really means three personas in the sense of roles that were played in a Greek drama. As a result of all this it could be helpful to think of God in terms of three primary processes
- The creative and creating process.(God the Creator)
- The transforming and indwelling process.(God the Son)
- The empowering process. (God the Spirit)
However, to be faithful to the Christian vision we need to affirm that behind all the processes is the process that holds everything together in a dynamic interaction, the supreme form of which is love such as is displayed in Jesus Christ.
A TRINITY OF POWER
Within each of us there dwells a trinity of power-
The power to nurture and sustain like God the Parent,
The power to liberate through the laughter and tears of our Inner Child,
The power to release in us and in others a creative and loving Spirit.
DEPENDENCY AND BELIEF IN GOD
- Belief in God the Father can arise out of dependency on a group, a tribe, a nation or an institution.
- Belief in God the Son can arise out of dependency on an individual, a parent, a lover or Jesus.
- Belief in God the Spirit can arise out of a person becoming independent, discovering their own worth and feeling no greater or less than any other person.
- Belief in God the Mystery can arise out of a person experiencing inter-dependence with all things.
FOCUS FOR ACTION
Because God is essentially mystery, the doctrine of the Trinity raises more questions than providing answers. But that is the nature of mystery. Finally we have to leave our rational mind behind and simply trust the awesome unknown. However here are some questions that hopefully will help us on our journey.
- How do my present images of God relate to my own personality? Do they reduplicate my familiar self or do they reflect my shadow side? Note: There appears to be a two way relationship between ourselves and the images of God we hold most dear. In other words, we tend to worship a God that resembles us (e.g. the artist tends to worship God the artist) and the God we worship confirms us in our ways of behaving. If we worship God the rescuer, we will almost certainly continue to accept the victim role, but if we worship God the empowerer we will reject the need to continue in a dependency relationship.
- Are we moving into an age of Spirit rather than an age of Christology? After all, Jesus said that he would send the Spirit to us. (John 15:26) Note: It is easy to gain the impression from the Bible that the Spirit is the manifestation of a continuing life of Christ, but the Spirit is present throughout the Hebrew Scriptures which Christians call the Old Testament. The relationship between the ‘persons’ of the Trinity is best summed up in the concepts of the `Quicunque vult’, consubstantial, coeternal, in other words of the same reality that always has been. While the condemnations of the `Quicunque vult’ or Athanasian Creed are repulsive to most modern Christians there are some delightful phrases in it, like ‘the Father incomprehensible’, ‘the Son incomprehensible’ and ‘the Holy Ghost incomprehensible’!
- 3. Does belief in the Trinity mean that there are only three faces, three valid images of God?
- 4. Interpretations of Jesus have changed throughout the history of the Christian Church. Is it better now to think of Jesus as Liberator rather than as Savior, as co-worker, rather than as Lord?
- Is the difference between Christ’s divinity and that of God within me (the Inner Christ) one of kind or of degree?
- Do our images of God empower us or dis-empower us?
- We used to think of God as unchanging, but if God is the God of the process, could it not be that God is in dynamic interaction with the process?
- As modern science becomes more compatible with mysticism and mystery, shouldn’t our emphasis be on Christ the mystical prophet rather than the divine victim?
- How has my understanding of God changed over the last 10, 20, 30 years, e.g. has it moved from God the supreme moralist to the God of relationships? Since relationships always demand a more complex understanding of reality than that provided for by black and white moral simplicities, should we replace the black and white image of God with one that encompasses all the hues of the rainbow?
- Of the great range of images of God which are available why have I chosen the ones that I am currently using? Do my images of God both comfort and disturb me, confirm and challenge me? If we do not have images of God which challenge us then it means we have probably settled for a policy of no growth in our spirituality.
Festive Worship
Text and image © William Livingstone Wallace but available for free use.
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Study Group Prayer by Claralice Wolf
Wise and loving God:
Sometimes we have come to you like little children with broken toys to be fixed. Many times you have healed our broken hearts and frayed relationships.
Sometimes we have come like teenagers, not knowing who we are, but wanting to try our wings. You have guided our paths, and helped us to learn from our mistakes.
Tonight we come as bewildered adults looking for truth, for knowledge, for wisdom. We have heard confusing voices. We want to know with assurance what is right.
Be with us in this room tonight. Bless and use the information, the research, the researchers. Give us discernment as we make the journey through ancient history back to our own day, that when we return to 20(–), we will know with assurance that we can trust You, our wise and loving God.
Amen.
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Psalm 63 by Jim Burklo
O dear God, I love you!
I ache for you, my heart burns for you
and only you can quench this fire
only you can satisfy my desire
O sweet God, be on my lips
lightly brushing, then with the full force
Of my passion for your presence within me.
I lift up my hands to caress you
I can’t get enough of you. Forlorn in my bed,
I dream only of you, my desire for you keeps me awake into the night,
this longing for you is better than sleep.
Your presence hovers over me, in your shadow I moan with joy.
I feel your grasp, I grasp at you, I gasp for you, dearest Lover God
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Events and Updates
Bishop John Shelby Spong
Bishop Spong will speak at Unity of New York,
Symphony Space, 2537 Broadway @ 95th Street, New York City on December 6th at 11:00 a.m.
READ ON ...
Bishop Spong speaks at Unity of New York (Dec 6th 2015)
Sun Dec 6
Event: Sun 11 a.m. Worship Service
Start: December 6, 2015 11:00 AM
End: December 6, 2015 11:00 AM
Location: UNITY OF NEW YORK
Symphony Space, (2537 Broadway @ 95th Street.)
2537 Broadway
New York, New York, United States
Telephone: Tel: 212 560-0756
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