Rethinking Thanksgiving

My belly is still full and I am about to pass into rich, dreamless sleep, the kind that comes from tryptophan and good memories. However, I've been thinking a lot lately about Thanksgiving. It is a quintessentially American holiday, a fixture of our civil religion. Civil religion isn't necessarily a bad thing. But I think Christians have a responsibility to critically reflect on the ways in which civil religion mingles with their faith, and possibly hinders it. 

I am considered about some of the language I hear around Thanksgiving. I squirm a little inside when I hear people give thanks for their possessions, health, affluence. At its worst, an American Thanksgiving becomes a celebration of affluence. And I don't think that pleases God. 

That oldie-but-goodie hymn, "Give Thanks," says:

Give thanks with a grateful heart

Give thanks to the Holy One

Give thanks because he's given

Jesus Christ, his Son

We are supposed to give thanks for God's gift of Jesus Christ ( Christmas and Thanksgiving can go together!). Jesus is our ultimate gift, not our shiny cars and big houses. Jesus, after all, had no place to lay his head.

Or another great hymn, "For The Beauty Of The Earth"

For the beauty of the earth

For the beauty of the skies

For the love which from our birth

Over and around us lies

Lord of all, to thee we raise

This, our hymn of grateful praise

God's creation and love received from others and all around... that's why we praise God. 

But I know it's hard. I know that even though I'm a college student, I'm extremely rich by global standards, and even by some American standards. I think God wants rich people to acknowledge the spiritual danger of wealth and to feel a moral imperative to give it away. 

I am thankful for God's grace. I am thankful for every family member around my Thanksgiving table, and for all of my friends. I am thankful for the hard work my dad does so we can afford Thanksgiving dinner, and my mother's loving labor over our turkey, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, etc. I pray that day by day I can witness the ways God is at work in my life and the lives of others around me and give thanks. And that I'll be too distracted by grace to be worrying about money. 

An Accidental Field Trip

Because I injured my neck when a box fell on my head at McDonald's, I am taking muscle relaxers. Because I am taking muscle relaxers, I accidentally slept until noon this Sunday morning. Because I accidentally slept until noon, I could not attend church this beautiful morning. Because I couldn't go to morning church, I looked up churches with Sunday night services and landed upon Our Lady of Presentation Catholic Church and Grace Baptist. Because the Catholic Sunday night Mass is in Spanish, I went to Grace Baptist. And that is how a young female liberal Methodist ended up at a King James only, thoroughly Calvinist, all male-led Baptist church tonight. 

I walked in and immediately noticed a huge American flag and the flags of every branch of the military on the wall perpendicular to the altar. I was immediately annoyed. I'm very patriotic and I respect the military with all my heart, but that doesn't belong in the sanctuary. One American flag, fine, but church should be about God. The bulletin prattled on about eternal security and getting saved. I immediately thought of the old response to the door-to-door evangelists' query, "Are you saved?"-- "Yes, I was saved on Friday two thousand years ago." And as a PowerPoint connoisseur, I can tell you their PowerPoint was quite amateurish. 

In other words, I felt I was entering the buckle of the Bible belt. (All right; that sounded weirder than I meant it to. Perhaps the sterility of the sanctuary stifled my sexual-connotation-radar.)  Looking back, I can see I was being snooty, sniffing at their conservatism and dismissing their very real faith. 

We sang two simple hymns, "Take My Life" and "Give Thanks." And then, Pastor Pete said we were going to go around the room and each person would say what he or she is thankful for. The results were stunning. Husbands and wives, parents and children thanked God for one another. Grown men were moved to tears by what God has done for them. And nearly every person showed a deep, organic understanding of the ways God has moved in their lives; they were thinking theologically, and it was impressive. Luckily, I was sitting in the far back corner of the sanctuary and I was one of the last people to say what I am thankful for.

I said I am thankful for the ways God calls each one of us. I knew I could not thank God for calling me into the ministry there because these folks would think I am damned for being a woman called to be a pastor. But when I said I'm thankful for my calling, these far right folks nodded heartily. I continued, "And thank you God, for bringing me here tonight. I've learned a whole lot."

And I meant it. Then, Pastor Pete said we were supposed to get in small groups and pray together. Every person in my group thanked God for me. These strangers talked to God about me. It was quite moving. 

I am truly thankful I went there tonight, or rather that God led me to Grace Baptist. Of course I'm as Methodist as ever, but I think we liberals can learn some stuff from the right-wingers. And more importantly, so many right wingers are devout disciples. I really want to try the going around the circle and giving thanks thing. Not in worship; I feel strongly that worship needs to be more engaging than that. Maybe in a small group or Sunday School class I'll lead one day. I pray the church God gives me to lead, if that's his will, will be red hot with Holy Spirit fire like these KJV-only Baptists. I guess the Holy Spirit really does go wherever he wishes, like Jesus says in John 3. And sometimes, it's the "open-minded" who are actually trying to close doors. I'm thankful this Sunday that the Holy Spirit isn't bound by my prejudices.

Liturgy with John Lennon

L: Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup
C: You give abundant showers, O God; you refreshed your weary inheritance (Psalm 68:9)
L: They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
C: Your loyal love extends beyond the sky (Psalm 108:4)
L: Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind
C: We are sorrowful, yet always rejoicing (2 Corinthians 6:10)
L: Possessing and caressing me
C: We are your children through faith in Jesus Christ (Galatians 3:26)
L: Jai garu deva om
C: Victory to God, Divine. 

L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: We are more than conquerors through him who loved us 
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: Neither death nor life, neither angels nor rulers
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: Nor things present, nor things to come
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: Will separate us from the love of God (Romans 8:37-39)

L: Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes
C: You answered us, Write the vision, make it plain on tablets (Habakkuk 2:2)
L: They call me on and on across the universe
C: Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening (1 Samuel 3:10)
L: Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box
C: Then you spoke out of the whirlwind, and answered (Job 38:1)
L: They tumble blindly as they make their way across the universe
C: The wind blows where it will. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)
L: Jai garu deva om
C: Victory to God, Divine.

L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: And we also were included in Christ
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: We heard your word, the truth of our salvation
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: We were marked with a seal, with the Holy Spirit
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: We are your possession (Ephesians 1:13-14)

L: Sounds of laughter, shades of life are ringing through my open ears
C: Your joy is in us, and our joy is complete (John 15:11)
L: Inciting and inviting me
C: You invited many guests to your banquet; you said everything is made ready (Luke 14:17)
L: Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns 
C: Your word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119:105)
L: It calls me on and on across the universe
C: You have said, "Here am I, here am I," all the day long (Isaiah 65:1)

L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: You keep us strong until the end
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: We will be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: You have called us into fellowship 
L: Nothing's gonna change my world
C: And you are faithful (1 Corinthians 1:8-9)

L: Jai garu deva om
C: Victory to God, Divine

L: Jai garu deva om
C: Victory to God, Divine

L: Jai garu deva om
C: Victory to God, Divine

L: Jai garu deva om
C: Victory to God, Divine

A Preaching Slam

Last night I went to a poetry slam, and it was really, really cool. It was my first time in bar, which was nice, although I didn't have anything to drink because I had a huge paper to finish. And some of the slamming poets were pretty attractive and others I'm friends with, but that wasn't it, either. 
I think poetry slams can teach me something about preaching. See, a lot of the slams were laugh out loud, uproariously funny. We were guffawing at times, and yet pierced by the stinging barb of their observations. One slammer shouted fiercely: "Don't write!" and proceeded to explain in hilarious detail why everything good that will be written has already been, and if you haven't conquered Derrida, why should the likes of you bother writing a thing? Another slammer howled that his refusal to capitalize and use proper punctuation in text messaging is actually a political statement-- and went on to explain the war between grammar Nazis and commie comma splicers. I'm making it way more boring than it was!
Humor and truth go together. And they go especially nicely with performance. 
Sort of makes me think of the prophets, and the best prophet, Jesus. I think their jibes and stinging wit get a bit lost in translation sometimes, excessively softened by our sickening sentimentalism that sees Jesus as meek and mild, cosmic Santa who walks on eggshells to never offend anybody and gives us everything we want. A good poetry slam will shatter that idol, as will even a cursory glance at the gospels or prophets. Well, cognitively shatter it, anyway; these idols remain stubbornly entrenched in our hearts without the saving grace of the living God. Sometimes that grace comes through slam poetry.
Jesus insisted the only way to live is to eat his flesh and drink his blood, with the humorous hard hitting dead serious style of slam. Isaiah proclaimed our righteousness is like filthy rags. And he didn't mean the kind you use to wash your car; he meant the ones that start off clean in the feminine hygiene aisle.
I'm sorry if I offended anybody. But Isaiah isn't, I am sure. 
Some religious people take a perverse joy in offending people, and those people are really obnoxious, ironically as bad as the Pharisees whom they claim to hate. I don't think the slammers last night were like that. They were caught up in their message and would use any means possible to rattle us, but they didn't annoy for the sake of annoying. This subtle distinction was clear in their sweaty, sincere, raw faces. And the humor helped, too. It's easier to get the point when we're all laughing or stricken by the absurd. Like when Paul says he counts it all scubula compared to the all surpassing gain of Christ-- scubula is Greek for a word for excrement also beginning with "s" in English. That probably rolled a few heads... but in laughter, in clarity, towards Jesus Christ.
Does that mean I'm going to be a cussin' preacher when/if I get a pulpit? I remember being very young but old enough to know I loved to write, and my mother telling me when (for her it was always a when) I got published, she didn't want to see any swear words and would cross them out if there were any.
So don't freak, Mom, and all the surrogate mothers and grandmothers I will gain by virtue of my ordination. I won't cuss in the pulpit, not aloud, anyway. Those slammers I saw last night would do nothing to distract from their point, from their art. And I will try my utmost to do nothing to distract people from the good news. But sometimes we get the good news best when it comes through jokes, through the absurd. 
The kingdom of God is a slam poetry night. And I pray God will make me half as good a slammer in the pulpit as the folks on the Dukum stage.

Classy Quotes

Quotes from readings in my creative nonfiction, Native American lit, and Japanese religion classes that captured my attention lately:

"I also have a commanding stare, large sad brown eyes that can either be read as gentle or severe"

"Many times, my ironic smile is nothing more than a neutral stall among people who do not seem to appreciate my 'contribution.'"-- Phillip Lapote, "Portrait of My Body"

"We gather at the shore of all knowledge as peoples who were put here by a god who wanted relatives.
This god was lonely for touch, and imagined herself as a woman, with children to suckle, to sing with-- to continue the web of the terrifyingly beautiful cosmos of her womb.
This god became a father who wished for others to walk beside him in the belly of creation.
This god laughed and cried with us as a sister at the sweet tragedy of our predicament-- foolish humans
Or built a fire, as our brother to keep us warm
This god who grew to love us became our lover, sharing tables of food enough for everyone in this whole world"-- Joy Harjo, "Reconciliation, A Prayer"

"I'm not afraid of love
or its consequence of light"-- Joy Harjo, "A Creation Story"

"For Christ's purpose is not for us to fathom. His love is a hook sunk deep into our flesh, a question mark that pulls with every breath. Some can dull themselves to the barb's presence. I cannot."-- Louise Erdrich, Tracks 

"Listening to the old stories and reading books are for the purpose of sloughing off one's own discrimination and attaching oneself to that of the ancients"

"The highest Way is in discussion with others"-- Yamamoto Tsunetomo, The Book of the Samurai 

Zen and the Art of Fast Food Service

This crazy busy-ness of this semester is testing, among other things, my blogging ability. But it's okay. I keep reminding myself: It's okay. All manner of a thing shall be well, to say it the religious way.

As I've gushed to many people less religiously nerdy than myself, I'm taking Japanese Religions this semester, and it's absolutely fascinating. Right now we are studying Zen Buddhism, a tradition that especially intrigues me in part because it seems to defy the gospel and yet hint at its promises. Zen is all about discovering your real self and getting rid of your old self. Sound like a certain Jew we all know and love? "Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." As the old hymn says, quoting Hebrews (I think?), "My life is hid with Christ on high." And yet Zen dismisses notions of a personal deity, or any deity at all, obsessed with inner enlightenment and attainment of Buddha nature. 

Zen dismisses the mind body dualism, along with the Hebrew thinkers from Genesis straight down to Revelation. The idea that my body and my personality/soul/mind are separate is not a Jewish one. That's what we mean when we recite the Apostle's Creed: "I believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting." We profess in saying the Creed that life everlasting ultimately requires restoration of our bodies, a latter day resurrection which will come when Jesus returns to set all things right. That dualism comes from Greek, gnostic, and finally Cartesian thinking. 

Anyway, Zen says the goal is to make your mind and body one. They sit in zazen or meditation for hours on end, right foot on top of the left thigh and vice versa, spine perfectly straight. They discipline their bodies. As Paul said to the Corinthians centuries before, "I beat my body and make it my slave." You must perform zazen in the proper physical position because of the oneness of mind and body. A disciplined mind needs a disciplined body. 

Christianity can get so abstract. We are caught up in thinking about the Trinity and heaven and lots of other things, while ignoring the bodies God gave us. 

My best prayer lately has been happening at McDonalds. (Seriously.) I work there a couple nights a week, and while putting on my uniform that has permanently locked in the stench of mingled grease and old ketchup, I think of Wesley's question for candidates for ministry: "Are you in debt so as to embarrass yourself?" And then I wear my hot fudge stained pants and man's sized polo that goes down to my thighs with pride.

But as I mop, sweep, take orders, get drinks, there is a kind of calmness inside. I don't know why. I just shut out everything else. You might think you're standing in front of my counter, but really it's just me and God there, and sometimes my coworkers if they feel like chatting. I'm not thinking very much about you, though, the customer. In the act of tiring out my body by running all over the store and performing menial tasks, my body is sufficiently disciplined to get my mind to shut up. And then God and I, we talk.

I'm not bragging. Really-- for somebody who's going into the ministry, I'm not a good pray-er at all. (I know, I know: there are no bad prayers, just like there are no bad coloring book pictures and no bad Mother's Day crafts.) I struggle to concentrate, to focus. An intellectual, I snobbishly see prayer as beneath me. Or I just don't care. But when I really put my body to work, God and I connect. McDonald's is a kind of zazen. Or, to put it the Christian way, I'm like Brother Lawrence, finding the Lord in fry baskets and sauce buckets. Because he's there. 

We Christians could learn a few things from the Zen folks. Like putting our bodies to work in the great work of prayer. 

Man, Wanted

Man, wanted
Who will walk me every Sunday down the aisle.
But first you will pray for me, hold my hands, then gently
Zip up that long, black preacher's robe. 

You will have more in-laws than you ever dreamed.
My mom and dad, yes-- and the church organist and the
Patriarchs, matriarchs, old timers and youth--
All wondering if you're good enough for me
Good enough to join the family.

You know that I am wedded to another.
The Builder is my husband. First.
And my ordination-- I thought that would be
The wedding.

So I don't know quite what to do with you
And you know it. And you love it, better
Love me, love the crazy life we live
Together.

Man, I am waiting for you, but please don't 
Be hurt when I say I don't really know if you're
Out there somewhere; or just in here.

Man, I know you love me and Jesus big enough 
To know. To know first a congregation
Crowded my heart but I saved a place

For you.