conjectural navel gazing; jesus in lint form

sermon thought...

"It is natural for us to wish that all men who bear the name of Christian should join our Chruch, our sect, our society; but after all, there is no place for bigotry among the followers of Christ...Christians should feel a generous tolerance toward their fellow believers of every name."

-Charles R. Edrman

1986 and too tall stools...

Trish and I are having coffee at our kitchen island. We think the stools I purchased are a little too tall. I am afraid that the other size will be too short. Ah. The trials and tribulations of kitchen stuff.

WXRT is featuring 1986 on the Saturday Morning Flashback. I was in high school...just got my drivers license...I know that some who read this blog were not yet born or were born that year. Others were entering into the career of their choice. Try not to think too much about that, guys. Just remember that 1986 was a great year for music: Suzanne Vega, U2, Paul Simon and "Graceland," and a new album by the Rolling Stones...It was a good year for music. What was your favorite music from that year?

The wedding rehearsal went well last night. Today I will finish my homily for that service. And I will finish my sermon for tomorrow. I am struggling with that just a little bit. I think that the Mark passage says soemthing essential about salvation that gets my thinking away from "Don't do that or you'll go to Hell" thinking in spite of the language used. Incredible. It all centers around the narrative skill of the author which was considerable.

the tempest

This is a brief video from a local news station about the production of The Tempest that Trish was part of...

breakfast mumblings

Cheesetoast is toasting in the oven. Ever since I was a little boy cheesetoast has been a favorite of mine. But since I read some of Patrick O'Brien's nautical stories I now think of the sea when I eat cheese toast. It amazes me how much a book can capture and shape the imagination.

I am at low ebb right now. Somehow I have worn myself out. Dunno how I have done it. I'll let you know as soon as I do.

Here are some thoughts about this Sunday's sermon. The lectionary gives us a curious reading from Mark's gospel. This is yet another passage that seems extreme and cruel...and in the process of getting hung up on that, we miss the basic hyperbole involved. You don't have to cut your foot off, people. But when you dig into it, you may wish you had.

I understand that there are a couple of things going on in this passage. One of them is Jesus' (Mark's) attempt to get us out of the physical purity kick. It is not that Jesus does not understand that our bodies are to be pure to some degree. Certainly. But here the priorities are set so that we are discouraged to allow physical purity to be the pinnacle of all things good. It is better to cut your foot off than to miss out on salvation. This would have been scandalous to the ears of those around him. But this is the guy who hangs out with lepers. So, you have to think that he's working though the purity thing a little differently.

What I am wondering is if there are contemporary parallels to physical purity. I mean, are there things that are salvific in your life that God may ask you to step away from because, strangely enough, they are getting in the way of full salvation? The passage suggests that what you think of as salvific (because it is often and has been for many) may not be. You may have to lose something good to move forward into God.

You may have to blind or cripple yourself in one way or another to find salvation.

And did I mention that even after you have done all that, you still won't know exactly where salvation is? Yeah. That is in the first part of the reading. People outside the community are going to claim Christ. You won't like it. And Jesus will say...well...sorry. That's just how it is.

We do not know where God is not.

Whoever is not against us is for us...Somehow this weaves its way in. I am not sure how it will weave into my sermon. There are obvious political implications in this as well. Because Jesus has specific things to say about those who are against us as well...love your enemies. Once again, salvation belongs to God. Why? Well, we are not willing to cripple ourselves or love our enemies....or people who are theologically challenging, who cast out demons in the name of Christ but don't worship with us on Sunday morning.

We want to stay pure...clean...sighted and mobile.

It's world communion Sunday. It is the first Sunday of the month so we will have communion. That fits in as well.

university of blogaria update

There have been a few faculty changes here at the Sjlbvdnzv Campus.

Welcome Jorge Sanchez to the Arminian and yet Reformed faculty! He holds the Pablo Neruda Chair for Political Science and Benedictine Spirituality.

Camassia and Jennifer Collins are both officially on sabbatical. They have contributed much to the life of the University and beyond. God speed and we await your return.

Finally, we have a bookstore! Check the links to the left and you will find two books featured there. Both are by University faculty!

good day...long day

Leiturgia...work, people. It means work. I worked long hours yesterday. Liturgy. And I think that it was all God-work (Gottwerk). Excellent.

But now I need some down time. It ain't gonna happen, but there you go.

Today I will write my sermon for Sunday.
Tomorrow there are meetings to enjoy and a wedding rehearsal to run.
Saturday someone has to clean the house! Oy veh! Saturday night I am presiding at a wedding.
Sunday, well, that's Sunday. More Liturgy.

It's all liturgy.

dueling in the sbc?

It seems that the SBC is becomming interesting again. I won't get too excited about this or applaud the fact that there is dispute. We Baptists always argue with one another. Roger Williams, the famed founder of Baptist life in America, was kicked out of his own church after only three years. He moved on and formed another church. This is Baptist life. It sometimes infuriates me to no end that we shift and grown in such a way. But there you have it. We are scriptural literalists and rationalists all at the same time. Thus, finding like minded believers is almost impossible...

raining and bloggishness...

The Lord has it raining again. Chateau Ouilmette is a lovely place in the rain. There are enough windows that there is still light in the house. And, now that I have purchased a couple of stools for the kitchen, I can sit under the skylight and watch the clouds roll by. This is a luxury. I admit it. Wireless internet, skylights, "free range" coffee, and blogs...luxuries all and I enjoy them.

I am marveling at some basic connectivity stuff online today. Young Fogey linked to Jorge. I am having a great time thinking about this. I know I may be making too much of it, but I know YF only online, but I think I like the guy. I know Jorge. He and his family sometimes make their way to Reconciler on Sunday evenings. Jorge and I may finally fulfill a dream of mine which involves strong Cuban coffee and "tabacos." Que bueno! Que cool. Anyway, that they have discovered one another somehow reminds me why I like the relational aspect to the internet. Connectivity is a wondrous thing.

A very important aside:

Today is my father's birthday.

Happy Birthday, Ye Olde Fartte!

I guess I should call him as he does not surf the ether.

Again with the connectivity. AKMA posted a comment on my most recent mandodoxy entry. It seems that he perceives a shift in my theological stance. Can it be so? Dear God, has seminary influenced me in such a way? Has ministry shifted my thinking and belief so clearly? Oh. My. Ah well, say good bye to process theology and say hello to neo-baptist pseudo-orthodoxy. *heavy sigh*

And with that I must needs depart. Today I visit parishoners. Today, I wear my collar...I find navigating hospitals a little easier with the collar. Old habits. Can't help 'em.

strange memories

The weather today is incredible. 70. Clear skies. It is a pristine day. It reminds me of days spent working at a bakery in Richmond, VA. I am not sure why. I can smell the bread in the oven and the coffee beans being ground at the counter. And is all plays together with a song by The Story.

The Angel In The House

My mother moved the furniture when
she no longer moved the man
We thought nothing of it at the time
She painted walls, painted smiles,
Checked herself in the mirror one more time,
Then yoked her heart to a whim
But the history of desire is such that just one word -
just one touch could send it reeling
She passed go again and again
never collected her two hundred
Or landed on the purple with the Jones'
She wanted to be a different person
She sat down, finally, and he walked away
He walked away
She listened to the angel - she said to flatter
She said to coo - she said it won't matter
I thought I was by myself, but I cannot kill
the angel in the house
Even in my wildest heart, I cannot kill
the angel in the house
the angel in the house
the angel in the house
You hang on to the pieces of the game that don't talk back
Don't sneak around
Movable objects, but, where were we?
Don't let anything happen
We're back to the wheel, back to fire, onto the high wire
'Cause she listened to the angel - she said to flatter
She said to coo - she said it won't matter
I thought I was by myself, but I cannot kill
the angel in the house
Even in my wildest heart,
I cannot kill the angel in the house
the angel in the house
the angel in the house
the angel in the house
the angel in the house
the angel in the house

This song in in my i-tunes mix. Now I have images of Richmond in the early fall...smells of coffee and the feel of cobblestones underfoot. Maybe I'll bake some scones...vanilla and walnut.

mandodoxy: obedience and belief

One of the things that I am wrangling with in my mandolin lessons is the retooling of my brain. Yes, I am having to unlearn and learn. Unlearning is much more difficult. There are actual, neural pathways that have developed over the years that I have to reroute. For example, I tend to default to second position when I play. This is inaccurate at best. And it has served as a cheat to avoid using the little finger on my left hand too frequently...or at all. I have been disobedient to mandolin convention...no less a mandolinist, but a misguided hack among the faithful. Heh.

When I meet with the Mandoguru, we often talk about these things. He sees the progress. I can tell now when I make mistakes in the picking patterns or when I venture from first position to second without his telling me. This is a great step. But my slips are almost all unconscious. My knowledge is merely in reaction to the uncontrolled misstep. Nonetheless, I have faith that the conventions are an improvement over my autodidactic morass of pseudo-techniques. I see them at work. In some ways I am a much better player already.

Yesterday, however, it occurred to me that I believe but still live within unbelief. My unconscious slips into old habits are signs of that unbelief. It is only obedience to the conventions that will overcome my unbelief. Is using the little finger difficult? You bet. But I have faith that it will not always be so. I now practice playing scales in first position.

I shared this insight with the Mandoguru. He and I both had a little chuckle over the parallel. It's been very interesting for me to think of my skill as belief. Belief and trust are related. I am called as a student to trust the conventions and the Mandoguru. And as I grow in skill (belief) I find that I am able to share in a journey with the Mandoguru and not simply receive wisdom.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.

too cool - monday night football on espn

U2 and Green Day on stage at the same time playing "Beautiful Day" is about all the cool I can take. Two drum kits. Multiple guitars...and Bono wearing rosary beads around his neck. You think he might claim to be Catholic before it is all over with, Young Fogey?

"...tonight our future burns brighter than ever before..."

Green Day = cool
U2 = cool
All together on stage in New Orleans = 2cool4me

Welcome home, Saints. When you are done with this game, get thee to Mississippi and help build a house or six.

happy anniversary, yo

She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
Maybe my treasure or the price I have to pay
She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a Heaven or a Hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
A smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell....

She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry
She maybe the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows in the past
That I remember 'till the day I die

She maybe the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I care for through the rough and ready years

Me, I'll take the laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is
She....She
Oh, she....

She (Tous Les Visages de L'Amour)
Elvis Costello - from Notting Hill Soundtrack
Written by Charles Aznavour and Herbert Kretzmer

the sermon...

This Homecoming Sunday service I provided an opportunity for the congregation to share memories of their ife together. Then I made the connection between memories and seeds sown.

It sorta worked. Though the connection I made could have been more articulate, the connections they made more than covered the distance.

Preaching is never in a void.

Sermon: Community Church of Wilmette
September 24, 2006

I.Stained Glass 1
1.wandering around a bit on Friday...
2.made me think of some things.

II.Homecoming memories
1.congregation shares

III.Memories are signs of relationships...and they are the fruit of scattered seeds.
1.Agriculture and the parable
2.an interlinear interpretation –
1.A Jewish community struggling with itself.
2.we remember what the early church thought
3.This is about what happens on the inside and the outside of the community.

IV.You are the fruit of the 100-fold yield.
V.Stained Glass 2
1.memories of people who were here
2.memories of God in Christ...The Sower
3.These are memories we were asked to claim.

VI.The sower is still at work in this place.
1.Look through the windows.
2.Through these memories you see the world.

VII.The church is a Memory Garden.

the weather outside...

So the weather went from bad to absurd. From what I hear, no one was hurt, but trees are down and some property was destroyed. I was out driving in the "tornado-like" weather. I love how meterological folk talk about these things. Here is the Tribune article or here for the Sun Times and finally Topix.net. Our church sits on the border of Wilmette and Kennilworth. I was in my car returing to the church from the Kennilworth train station with our organist when the tornado hit. That was fun. We drove through it. The article says that there was a lot of bark but little bite. Okay. Then I really don't like barking. Gee, an actual funnel cloud.

That was my very first tornado. Yay.

But the concert went on as planned. This is a stalwart crowd and 8-hand piano concertos wait for no storm. Let it be written. Let it be done.

The golf outting has been scrubbed. The course is unplayable. Oh, the humanity! I know. But that is serious business around these parts. Pray for the owners...and the requisite insurance companies.

People are still without power. Obviously ours is up and running...but was out until after midnight. You can smell the chainsaws in town. Trees are down everywhere.

The potluck will go on tonight. The basement, however, is flooded. This always happens. So, we'll eat upstairs in the lounge in stead. I am roasting Indiana venison.

Tomorrow I preach. We sing. We meet God where God invites us to do so.

Maybe we'll go see Trish's dramaturgical debut again.

homecoming

This evening begins CCW's homecoming weekend. Tonight is a concert with dessert and coffee. Tomorrow is golf or brunch during the day and a potluck that evening (I am bringing venison.). Sunday is a service...a bigish one, I guess. This is all great.

Well, right now there is a tornado warning and the rain that is to come with it may very well stick around through Sunday. I guess that may dampen things a bit. Let's hope that we have fun anyway.

Would someone with better divine meteorological clout with God hook us up?

left or right...

What can anyone tell me about the organizations that are coming up like Faithful Democrats and CrossLeft? I know some things about them from my personal relationships. A friend went to college with one of the founders of Faithful Democrats. I went to college with one of the founders of CrossLeft. And, yes, I have spoken to these people about the mission etc. But what what I am curious about is how they fit within the church...or if they rightly express the church.

I am likely not making much sense. Hmm...

Okay, this is what I am struggling with: reason. Ever since the Pope's famed speech, I have been wondering about reason's place in our society and how our varying understandings of it rear their heads in our political life as people attempting to be faithful.

Jesus said:

‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax-collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. - Matthew 5 following the Beatitudes

And then there is this quotation:

If we are directed only by our particular natures, and
regulate our inclinations by no higher rule than that of our
reasons, we are but moralists; divinity will still call us
heathens. Therefore this great work of charity must have other
motives, ends, and impulsions. I give no alms to satisfy the
hunger of my brother, but to fulfill and accomplish the will
and command of my God; I draw not my purse for his sake that
demands it, but his that enjoined it; I relieve no man upon
the rhetoric of his miseries, nor to content mine own
commiserating disposition, for this is still but moral
charity, and an act that oweth more to passion than reason.
... Sir Thomas Browne (1605-1682), Religio Medici [1643]

In both cases, what is reasonable (utilitarian?) is stretched to an almost foolish position. "Perfection" seems to turn torture chambers into romper rooms. Charity is not then an act that makes sense, but embodies Christian perfection. Such perfection is both journey and goal. The telos is revealed in the journey. It is not that acts of charity sans divine inspiration are bad. Hardly. Ubi caritas et amor... But the early church, if I remember correctly, would include initiates in charitable work but not in the "greater mysteries" of the church such as communion until after baptism. The charity was to reveal the mystery...and then when the mystery was embraced, charity is then fruit of the Spirit...an expression of growing perfection.

I know I am wandering a bit here, but I am wondering all this stuff in the context of the rise of more "liberal" Christian movements. I do not think that these movements should be pitted against the so-called conservative religious right as much as they should pit themselves against reason - a reason that is held over and above faith and spirit and not in concert with it.

Note: I was asked to post this on CrossLeft as well.

from st benedict...and joan

Listen readily to holy reading, and devote yourself often to prayer. Every day, listen with tears and sighs confess your past sins to God in prayer and change from these evil ways in the future.

Joan Chittister says that the spiritual life is something we strive for. There are various ways and disciplines. No one spiritual discipline is better than the other per se. We have to seek for ourselves. But it is always a striving for and with God like Jacob and like Peter. It is both an act of obedience and a wrestling.

Life, Benedict implies, is a tapestry woven daily from yesterday's threads. The colors don't change, only the shapes we give them. Without the past to guide us, the future itself may succumb to it.

Been a quiet day on the web because I have been busy elsewhere. Y'all have a good night. I'll see you tomorrow and bring some sermon preparation with me.

mandodoxy: your plectrum matters

One of the things I do to try to keep myself sane is to continue figuring out the mandolin. To that end, I have been taking (and enjoying) lessons. It's been quite revealing. One of the things that I have changed since I started taking lessons is the type of pick I use. The changes I am being compelled to make are quite basic. To me the most basic change has been in the thickness of the plectrum.

Perhaps you think this strange. Trivial? Alas, thou art mistook!

So, one of the things that I have been working on is getting the right tone out of my instrument. My Mid-Misouri mandolin is a sweet little bugger. I like it. But I have been frustrated that it sounds, I don't know, "jangly." You know, tinny.

The Mandoguru took my pick and bent it in his hand and said something like "How do expect to get anything good from something this flimsy?" Can anything good come out of planet waves?! Oh. Um. I dunno. I chose it because it was thicker than the average guitar pick and it's orange. I try to hold up the protestant end in my Irish-ish band. Impolitic? Yes. But there you have me in a nutshell. Plus, orange is just pretty. I know. I'm a dork. I just like orange.

Anyway, so I went to get new picks...something stiff that does not require my clutching and whitenuckle attempts to get the thing to be rigid enough to give me the tone I want. I now have these great little picks that don't bend in the slightest. The tone is much improved. Sadly, the only color I could find was...Wait for it...You know the answer...green. Yep, green picks. This is absurd! Someone out there help me! I need orange picks .84mm thick. The Catholics are everywhere!

Mandodoxy is a difficult road, brothers and sisters.

Next on Mandodoxy: Trying not to strangle the mandolin when playing jigs.

related links

Hello there. To all those commenting on my earlier rant, please poke aorund in these links. You may find it edifying...or bothersome. I dunno which. That's yer call.

Geneva Conventions
Christian Science Monitor
Law of Armed Conflict - military resourse...
"Restoring America's Compass" - Bob Casey (Pennsylvania liberalishness)
"Sake" - Larry Greenfield (Liberal as liberal can get...)
"Clarifying Torture" - reason.com
Some nutjob suggested this passage from Deuteronomy.

today!

Today is Talk Like a Pirate Day!

computer woes.

Urgle.

The MacBook is giving us trouble at home. So, I was not able to follow up with the comments from yesterday's post until just now. Please, if you are interested in this conversation, follow the comments from yesterday's blog. There is some interesting stuff there.

should I wait? - a rant

After Larry's sermon last night at Reconciler, it might be wiser for me to hold my tongue and not speak...to be silent. But I am at a loss. I feel I should speak out about this. I have avoided political rants on this blog since I got that paying gig up here in Wilmette. This morning, however, I was listening to the radio and something really set me off. It's this whole Geneva Convention and the "freedom to torture act."

Right now I am more glad that I voted for John Warner when I lived in Virginia than I can say.

Most of you who keep up with this stuff know that some Republicans are lining up against W and his desire to reshape how/when/why we torture prisoners of war. The essential difference of opinion is that if we in the US allow more extreme torture practices than the Geneva Convention allows for or the current US articles of war allow for then we should expect our enemies to treat us no better in furture conflicts. In my limited understanding, this is the whole reason the Geneva Convention exists...so that civilized nations can hold one another accountable to something...anything...during times of war.

I voted for John Warner back when Oliver North was running for political office in Virginia. My fear was that we would lose a sane conservative voice for someone who, at the time, was an extremist. Warner has a great deal of seniority and clout...positive clout, bipartisan clout. North was a media sensation and a conservative shock jock. I peered around my usual side of the voting ballot and saw only people like Chuck Robb. Well, this is was stunning series of events. So, I voted for Warner. I have never regretted it. And today I could not be more proud and more concerned at the same time.

It is my opinion that if we are going to evangelize a democracy based shift in global governments to the extreme that W seems to propone, we should be civilized about it. No? I mean, let's be honest here. My guess is that W thinks one way of governing is civilized and another is not. This is what I hear on the airwaves, and what I read in the ether. We are a civilized western democracy. No? Then please, god, let's hold ourselves to the highest possible virtues within that belief system!

I hate the whole civilized vs. barbarian dichotomy. It is theologically false. But I seem to have lost that debate. So, let me say that we should be civilized. We should support the Geneva Conventions...and even strenghten them. We should provide for the world an example worthy of emulation (sp). This morning I feel that Oliver North won that election after all. John Warner may be in his senatorial office, but Ollie is in the White House. I could not be more disappointed in the White House than I am now. And I could not be more afraid for our country.

I get disillusionment. But I had remainded hopeful that W would not be able to do too much damage in his 8 years. But now he is pushing all of us around...from left to the center-right. I find him "un-civilized." He, who is our face to the world, will only prove us to be the barbarians, people incapable of compassion in the midst of difficulty. We will become a people who lives in fear...and will inflict that fear on the globe.

'Neath vine and fig tree we shall live
Shall live in peace and unafraid.
'Neath vine and fig tree we shall live
Shall live in peace and unafraid.

Nations shall turn swords into plows.
Nations shall study war no more.
Nations shall turn swords into plows.
Nations shall study war no more.

This little ditty proclaims that if we all have enough, live in a jubilee, share our wealth, then fear will lessen and war will be no more. It comes out of the idea that war is always based on economics. Whether it is the "haves" that wish to expand or the "have nots" who wish to take for there self-proclaimed survival...war was/is about economics.

This war on terror may have economic reasons for some. But I think W is right now...I think he has convinced me that for him this is a war of ideas. And, dammit, such a war is immoral and based on hubris. Dare we, we civilized westerners, fall into such a godless trap?

the sermon...disillusionment in the garden

Follow the extended link for the sermon.

a question...

To all you veteran ministry folk who may stumble across this blog from time to time...

Do we ever get a chance to sleep in? Is there ever a complete day that has nothing to do with ministry?

more sermon thinking...

Follow the extended link for the morass that is my sermon thinking thus far...

I am thinking a lot about Prospero's words from Shakespeare's The Tempest

You do look, my son, in a moved sort,
As if you were dismay'd: be cheerful, sir.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
- Prospero Act 4 Scene 1, The Tempest

This is not the whole of the speech, but it is the beginning of what I think is Prospero's shift in thinking. He is beginning to fear his own death at the hands of Caliban, Trinculo, and Stephano. Is this the beginning of Prospero's disillusionment?

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
- Prospero, Epilogue, The Tempest

Here good ol' Prospero has left illusion behind him. The spirits are no longer in his thrall. And yet now he has let bitterness and rage go. His dukedom is restored. And he is finally at liberty. Prayer...lovely. He has left bitterness behind him. He has fogiven those who wanted him dead...his sister and those who believed him dead, and Caliban and those who desired his death on the island.

Disillusionment is a gift. Facing our mortality and other events that compell such honesty often bring about disillusionment. And it is far from being some curse. It is always the precursor to liberty.

The lyrics from Grand Illusion by Styx are fun as well and will likely get a mention in the sermon as well. We often get caught up in worldly illusion. "America spells competition. Join us in our blind ambition. Get yourself a brand new motor car." In the 1970's Dennis DeYoung was all about getting us to see our materialism as falling prey to illusion. I guess Dennis was the first Emergent! Anyway, this is the work of illusion.

Though my sermon does not really seem to be going in this direction, I am also thinking that utopianism is simply an illusion. Prospero creates an ideal life. Styx reminds us of what we think of as ideal. Perhaps the disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane are also imagining a perfect world where their savior rids them of Rome.

The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Jesus sees his path clearly. And he sees his friends in their weakness. Nonetheless, salvation is to come in spite of the weakness of those whom Jesus calls friends.

This is the kind of garden that Gethsemane is.

sermon thoughts...

Ref+, this may make you happy.

Welcome to the grand illusion
Come on in and see whats happening
Pay the price, get your tickets for the show
The stage is set, the band starts playing
Suddenly your heart is pounding
Wishing secretly you were a star.

But dont be fooled by the radio
The tv or the magazines
They show you photographs of how your life should be
But theyre just someone elses fantasy
So if you think your life is complete confusion
Because you never win the game
Just remember that its a grand illusion
And deep inside were all the same.
Were all the same...

So if you think your life is complete confusion
Because your neighbors got it made
Just remember that its a grand illusion
And deep inside were all the same.
Were all the same...

America spells competition, join us in our blind ambition
Get yourself a brand new motor car
Someday soon well stop to ponder what on earths this spell were under
We made the grade and still we wonder who the hell we are

dreams and fashion

My wife had a paying corporate gig yesterday. So, she came home early. With her were several bunches of flowers. My wife broght me flowers. "I know you have had a rough week." Most of my week was not blogable. She's right. But my wife is wondrous cool.

In more recent psychological interest, I had a dream last night where I was scheduled to preach on St Patrick's day in two places...at the same hour...in my kilt. I could not seem to get it all together. I kept leaving behind bits of the kilt or my collar or whatever at my father's house...where all my stuff was.

Well, ain't this just a ducky dream?

Have at it, guys. Tell me what it's about.

a couple of links for you...

The first link is to an Associated Baptist Press article about the book Blue Like Jazz. I have read it and I found it to be lovely. I commend it to you. But read the article. It seems that the book has become the focus of debate and itself describes a shift within evangelical Amercan protestantism. Which way are we going?

Second, go to GetReligion today. There is this post about the Baby Boomer generation and religion in America. It interests me because my Wilmette church is populated by Boomers. I wonder how much the current shift that we see in Blue Like Jazz is related to the Boomer attitudes about faith. Ideas? Oh! There is an online quiz associated with the Newsweek article GetReligion critiques. Take it. Let me know your score. I scored a pitiful 56% on it. I am not a Boomer (b. 1970). I'm Gen X. As an aside, what books do y'all suggest I read about Boomers and faith? Gen X and faith?

Finally, I was passing through some old posts, cleaning out comments, and found this:

A good sermon is an engineering operation by which a chasm is bridged so that the spiritual goods on one side-the 'unsearchable riches of Christ' - are actually transported into personal lives upon the other. -Harry Emerson Fosdick

Y'all have a good day.

liveblogging confessions

Spud is over for pizza, ice cream and bad movies. We just finished Godzilla with Matthew Broderick. Our favorite line is "He's from France." You have to have been there. Now we are watching the cinematic masterpiece Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen. It has true contemporary resonance.

Right now Sid Arthur has broken up. Lola is wearing black and something that Sgt. Pepper would not wear. Yay!?

Ooo! Dance-off!

Lola got her arse whooped. Very sad. Will she get the Sid Arthur tickets!? Only time will tell. "Awesome!" Now Lola is the hero of the dance off. She won the second round.

Two of Carla Santini's nannies were institutionalized. She is one tough High School debutante.

It is too much to blog! Heaping humiliation? And she just got grounded...no allowance for one month. Lola is so in trouble,, like, entirely. And the Sid Arthur concert is sold out...and Carla Santini is so mean that some girl and her family had to move to Cleveland.

"Costumes are sacred..." Thus sayeth the drama teacher. Do we concur? Anyone?

Eliza Rock...that is the new name for the play Pygmalion. Yep. God is at work here, people.

Okay, we are at the concert at New York. Sid Arthur is giving their last concert. The crowd is huge. They are trying to get tickets from a scalper, but they money was in the make-up bag...which they left on the train. Now the have to sneak..."I hope they do Love Loser." Don't we all?

So, they can't get into the concert. So they are running 67 blocks in heels in the rain to go to an apartment in SoHo. Spud says "Wow. Doen't she look just like a hooker!"

Yeah. True.

"He isn't actually an adult. He's a rock star." This establishes an interesting possible dichotomy. And he has a very bad English accent.

Stu is in jail. So are the girls. Stu is not entirely clear on how he got there. It seems Stu has a substance abuse issue. And Lola's dad is not happy. Oh, and the dog is happy. Or something like that.

But Stu has sobered up and he has invited them all to the party. So, that's a good thing, right? The hope is that the mean girl, Carla Santini, is at the party and will see that Lola and her friend Ella are as cool as she is if not cooler.

Cooler than thou...

Organization does not
belong to the spirit.

This was up on Stu's wall. Nice. I like it! But Stu is drunk again. Disillusionment sets in. Yeah, it's like that sometimes. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. "Because, Mr. Wolf, you're a drunk." Well, that was pretty heavy after making out with the dog in the police station.

And now Lola is getting caught up in her own lies...he self-created drama. They are even calling her Mary now. That's her name, after all. And it is time to confess...Augustine has nothing on this girl. And payback is hell.

Thus begins the great downward spiral. St John of the Cross calls this the dark night of the soul. Douglas Addams calls it the long dark tea time. Spud is laughing at the movie. I'm not entirely sure why. This is serious cinema!

Okay, now on to Pygmalion...I mean, Eliza Rocks. The pit orchestra is composed entirely of macs. And they are ruining David Bowie. "Ch-ch-ch-changes?!?!!?!?!?" Oy.

Finally, on to the cast party. I am guessing Stu will finally make an appearance. And...Yes! He shaved and everything. Of course, the mean girl is claiming credit. But it ain't working. No way! Not in this formula. Nope. Stu is returning something Lola left at his place. And the mean girl spontaneously trips and falls in the fountain in the familyroom. Yeah! You know how it is sometimes.

Stu is in recovery (again). But they get to dance. This is every 17 year old girl's dream. She dances with the recovering rock star and ends up with the nice boy, Sam, at the end. Sam is not Stu. Sam is her friend. Who knew?

"And can you believe that all of this happened in Dellwood New Jersey...of all places?"

Life is a work of art you gotta paint it colorful,
Can make it anything u want don't have to stick to any rules
You don't need a high IQ to succeed in what you do,
You just gotta have no doubt just believe in yourself.

sermon thinking

Continuing with the garden theme for the month, I am stepping away from the lectionary and will preach from Matthew 26:36-46. Here Jesus is praying in Gethsemane and the disciples keep falling asleep. I am especially interested in the whole "the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak" bit. Is Jesus speaking to the disciples or about himself? I have always assumed that he was speaking about and to the disciples. But someone recently suggested to me that he was likely speaking about himself. Likely there is a little of both involved.

In either case, this is one of Jesus' encounters with disillusionment. He comes face to face with the limitations of his community. His response is incredible. He simply names what he sees. This is how Jesus judges. It is not moralistic. It is simply the statement of what is true. Your flesh is weak. Can't you stay awake for a single hour? No. Of course not. There are limits.

And the sooner we discover that and come to peace about that reality in any relationship, the sooner that reality may be redeemed and overcome by God's grace and forgiveness. Often we are asleep at the wheel and miss much of life and what is important. We fail this way. It happens. There should be no denying this in any church.

A garden, again with that theme, has weeds. There are critters. There is no "perfect" garden. Why should we expect our church communities to meet our needs in some perfect way? The "perfect" Christian community is not utopian. It is where forgiveness lives. Thus faith destroys the illusion that there is no sin, that there are no moments of sleep, that there are no times when we let one another down. Faith destroys illusion and build up a community of freedom and grace through forgiveness.

pastor carol's sermon

Carol McVetty from North Shore sent me the txt of the sermon she preached on Sunday evening for the Installation service. Follow the extended link to read it.

Stir What Ya Got!
2 Corinthians 4:1-12
September 10, 2006
Service of Installation for George V. Hudgins, III and Community Church of Wilmette

Grace and peace to you in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I bring you greetings from North Shore Baptist Church, though I am far from the only representative from North Shore here tonight. (Ask NSBC folks to raise hands.) Tripp, it is hard to overstate the joy of this moment for me and Doug. To watch God use North Shore to awaken your call and form your pastoral identity, and to be engaged in lively reflection with you throughout that process, has been one of the most gratifying experiences of my ministry. You are a child of North Shore; you’ll never escape it!

But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. 2 Cor. 4:7

I think Tripp would agree with me that Southerners are the best story-tellers. One of the elderly saints at the First Baptist Church of Detroit during the time we were pastors there was Red Lundsford. He was from Georgia. He told many wonderful stories, but one in particular he told to me over and over again. And it was a very strange story. He said: “Me and my friends were playin’ church down by the ole farm pond. It was time to have a baptism. So we grabbed us an ole cat and tried to dunk it. Well that durn thing was a-squirmin’ and a-hissin’. It like to tore my arms to pieces. So I said ‘Aw, jes sprinkle it like the Methodists do an’ let it go to hell!”

I told you it was a strange story; an embarrassing one even. It took me several years to figure out the point of the story and why he kept telling it to me. I believe that Red was trying to put his finger on a fundamental difference between his past (in the beginning decades of the 20th century) and his present. He was describing a time when church was central to everyone’s life. So much so that little boys would play “church” the way they play soccer or video games today; a time when theological differences among the various brands of Christians were considered life or death issues; a time when churches held a premier place of authority for the culture at large. Red looked around Detroit of the 1980’s and 1990’s and knew he was living his Christian life in a profoundly different era.

The community of my childhood was much like this one. It was a genteel, well-groomed suburb of Detroit. Even there, even then (in the 50’s and 60’s) the church had a central place as a legitimizing, meaning-making institution. We lived in “Christendom.” There was nothing to do on Sunday but go to church. Everything else was closed! I can remember my father saying that young men entering the auto companies would be subtly told that to get ahead, they must be active in a church. And so, the churches were full. All you had to do was open the doors and people came. They came for worship, they came for Sunday School, they came for potlucks, they came for choir. If you don’t remember that time here at Community Church, I’m sure you’ve been told about it. But you don’t need to be told, Community Church and Tripp, that you are beginning your journey together as pastor and people in a different day, in a different time. Our Christian identity is no longer at the center of culture. It has been relegated to the margins.

Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, defends his ministry to a small, struggling band of Christians. They were on the margins too. Their relationship to the world around them was more similar to ours today, that that of mainline Christianity in its glorious heyday. The Corinthian church lived as a mission outpost in the midst of a host of belief systems, including unbelief, and so do we.

Paul was speaking of his own ministry when he said we are persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed. He was talking about himself when he said “we have this treasure in clay jars…” But it’s not just Paul. If every believer has gifts and responsibility for ministry (as Paul himself says)… if we affirm the Baptist principle of the priesthood of all believers…then we can find ourselves in these words. I invite especially you Community Church folks and your new pastor to put yourselves in Paul’s “we” this evening. “We have this treasure in clay jars.”

Let’s face it. To the majority of residents of Wilmette, your building, your organization, your programs are like so many mason jars in my grandmother’s cellar: quaint, but rather pointless. Never have our jars of clay seemed so fragile. We are afflicted… with empty pews, shrinking budgets, flooding basements. We are perplexed…we wonder what happened. Did we do something wrong? “But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.” We are afflicted…but not crushed! We are perplexed…but not driven to despair! To wring our hands over the fragility of our jars is to overlook the treasure. The treasure is “the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ.” The treasure, sisters and brothers, is the good news of God’s saving love in Christ Jesus. And that Good News is anything but quaint or pointless.

As I said, Southerners tell the best stories. This one is from a Biblical scholar and college president, who also apparently has a sweet tooth. Traveling late on a Sunday night, he stopped at a roadside diner in Texas hill country for a cup of coffee. As was his habit, he quickly used up all the sugar packets the waitress had left on the table for him. As she passed by he said, “Excuse me, may I have some more sugar, please?” Being a no-nonsense all-night diner waitress, she put her hands on her hips, leaned over him and said, “Stir what ya’ got!”

You all may be clay jars….but you’ve got treasure. “Stir what ya’ got!”

--It’s no use sitting around wishing for something more, or something else, for some gimmick or magic trick to bring back the good old days.
--It’s no use waiting for more people, more money, more influence. You’ve already got what you need: the Gospel of God’s redemptive love. “Stir what ya’ got!”
--It’s no use trying to attract people by being like every other group in Willmette… “See, we’re just nice people, look what good friends we are.” When that’s your main message, you let your treasure sink down to the bottom of the cup. “Stir what ya’ got!” Stir it up for all to see. Tripp, I’ve heard you say “We’ve got the best story anywhere. Why aren’t we telling it?” When newcomers walk through that door, they’re not taking that risk, they’re not venturing into a new place, just to find friends. They’re coming seeking an encounter with the redemptive power of God. And that power is among you, no matter how frail you feel. “Stir what ya’ got!”

And it’s no use looking to Tripp to be your Savior. We have only one Savior. And his name sure as heck isn’t “George”! No, Tripp’s job is not to save this church. Tripp’s job is to keep on handing out spoons so you all can “Stir what ya’ got!” And while I’m at it, saving this church is not the point. The point is to live as a mission outpost, a Christ-like community with a call from God. That’s what I mean when I say “Stir what ya’ got.” By God’s grace you already have everything you need to be effective from the margins.
You have the Gospel.
You have the power of God’s Holy Spirit.
You have a God-given mission.

Community Church of Wilmette and Tripp, pastor and people, there’s treasure in your old mason jars. Stir it up. Stir it up until you are grabbed by that unique part of God’s great mission that is yours…
…and carried by the power of God into the future.
Amen.

garbage day...

Today is garbage day. I never really payed much attention to what day the sanitation gang rolled through in the city. Here in subhood, however it is something to celebrate. These people will pick up anything! It's fabulous. So, though I know this too shall pass, I always get a little excited about garbage day.

In other news, it is still raining. I am thinking that it is too late to build an ark. The sky is grey and heavy. It is as if someone flipped a switch and it became autumn. I actually wore my light sweater yesterday. Amazing. I know that we will likely have another warm spell, but fall is a'commin'. I have lived in Chicagoland for almost ten years now and I have yet to get used to how quickly summer can vanish. This is perhaps the first year that I wanted more of the summer weather. Chateau Ouilmette is a summer home. This summer has been wonderful! We have had some guests, yes. That is great. But really it has been all about coffee on the back porch. I am trying to figure out if a space heater on the back porch is a wise idea.

Jorge...let's test it out! Me. You Strong coffee and tobacos. Que piensas? Quiero fumar y beber con usted, profesor.

linkage

Baptists Like Me has linked here for a couple of reasons. I am grateful. To express my gratitude, I linked there under my Baptist Sites list. Check it out. BLM also links to Reconciler and is very encouraging. Danke!

RevGalBlogPals has been featured in an article in Christian Century. Huzzah! Keep it up! Several friends helped put it together. I joined in a little while later. I am proud.

quotation

There have always been two kinds of Christianity--man's and Christ's. Does anyone today remember how the emperor Constantine made Christianity the official religion? It is said that he had a vision—saw a cross in the sky with the inscription, "In this sign shalt thou conquer." He accepted the new faith promptly, because he thought it would defeat his enemies for him. That is man's Christianity, a means to earthly triumph. And in our present crisis we are appealing to it to defeat the Russians for us. We hear of the life-and-death struggle between Christianity and Communism, the necessity of "keeping God alive as a social force"--as if our Lord could not survive a Soviet victory! It is a poor sort of faith that imagines Christ defeated by anything men can do. ... Joy Davidman (1915-1960), Smoke on the Mountain [1955]

here is the service...

Declaration of Installation: John

Tripp, in the name of the Lord God, and on behalf of this church, I declare you to be duly installed as pastor of this church. We shall uphold you in prayer and in the performance of your duties as a minister of the Gospel. In the name of Jesus Christ, we welcome you as pastor of the Community Church of Wilmette. May the presence of the Holy Spirit guide and uphold you and your family.

Follow the extended link for more.

Jesus said, "You are the light of the world." (Matt. 5:14) Each of us is a light, shining in our own special way. Each church family household has brought a candle to the table. Each is different. Each is unique. Each is special. Each has its own light to shine. And together our light is even brighter and more beautiful. God, we pray that together our light will always burn brightly and that we will be a great light in your world.

Prelude: Happy and Blessed Are They  Mendelssohn     Rick

Introit: "The Call" - Ralph Vaughn Williams ...Rich, solo

Call to Worship/Welcome: John

Hymn #464 Joyful, Joyful

Invocation of the Holy Spirit: Rev. Larry

Litany of Commitment: Linda

Leader: O God of Abraham and Sarah, you have led your people in the past; lead us now.

People: Grant us the courage of Ruth to leave behind the old and familiar, the courage of Noah to risk laughter and scorn, the hope of Jeremiah to invest in the future, and the unselfishness of Esther to take risks on behalf of others.

Leader: O God of Moses and Miriam, you delivered your people and led them through the wilderness, giving them food, protection, and guidance.

People: In the words of Miriam, we praise you: "I will sing to God, who has triumphed gloriously!"

Leader: O God of Deborah and Gideon, you have given us leaders to bring us back when we wander from you, and deliverers to lead us against oppression.

People: Give us leaders and deliverers, and grant us wisdom to follow them.

Leader: From the words of your prophets we have learned justice and mercy.

People: Help us to say with Isaiah, "Here I am, Send Me."

Leader: O God of James and John and Mary Magdalene, you have called us to follow Jesus.

People: Teach us how to work together in mutual responsibility, side-by-side, neither lagging behind nor shoving to the front.

Leader: O God of Paul, Priscilla and Aquila, who risked their lives for the sake of spreading your word, fill us with enthusiasm for your church.

People: Use us in the building up of the church, in the joining together of its various congregations, and in its ministry to the whole world.

Leader: I God of our Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself in love for the whole world, teach us so to love.

People: Grant us the Spirit of Christ, who came not to be served but to serve.

All: Amen.

Scripture

            Joshua 1:7-9   Kara

"Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to act in accordance with all the law that my servant Moses commanded you; do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, so that you may be successful wherever you go. This book of the law shall not depart out of your mouth; you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to act in accordance with all that is written in it. For then you shall make your way prosperous, and then you shall be successful. I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Psalm 133 John

How very good and pleasant it is
when kindred live together in unity!
It is like the precious oil on the head,
running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
running down over the collar of his robes.
It is like the dew of Hermon,
which falls on the mountains of Zion.
For there the Lord ordained his blessing,
life for evermore.

2 Corinthians 4:1-12 Molly

Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God's word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus' sake. For it is the God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.

We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.

Sermon: "Stir What Ya Got." Rev. Carol

Hymn: #525 Here I Am, Lord

Covenant

Presentation of the New Pastor John

Charge to the Pastor: Rev. Dr. Larry

Charge to the Congregation: Rev. Douglas

Installation Prayer: Rev. Douglas Harris

laying on hands

Declaration of Installation: John

Tripp, in the name of the Lord God, and on behalf of this church, I declare you to be duly installed as pastor of this church. We shall uphold you in prayer and in the performance of your duties as a minister of the Gospel. In the name of Jesus Christ, we welcome you as pastor of the Community Church of Wilmette. May the presence of the Holy Spirit guide and uphold you and your family.

Anthem: If Ye Love Me Thomas Tallis Choir

Words of Welcome

American Baptist Churches, Metro-Chicago: Rev. Dr. Larry

Wilmette Interfaith Religious Leaders Association: Rev. Sarah

Community Church of Wilmette: Jan 

Pastor's Response: Rev. Tripp Hudgins

Hymn #420 God of Grace

Choral Benediction: Choir

Benediction: Rev. Tripp Hudgins

Postlude: "Little" fugue in G, Bach                  Rick

wondrous night...

I am obsessed with blogging. I know this. And I will confess that during the installation service last night I had many moments when I thought "Oo! That would be great for the blog." Suffice it to say that many of them escape me now. It was an amazing evening. Sarah came. So did Larry, Kate and the Reconciler cohort. AKMA and Beth were present as Pippa always brings her support staff with her. Mae and Justin also came. They latter brought the dog over to our house. Perhaps they will have something significant to say...some color commentary that will help you all get a sense of what it was like.

During the service, I kneeled on the floor and those gathered came forward for a laying on of hands. After the service, a friend took me over to the spot where I kneeled and said..."Right here, Tripp. Right here I watched them screw you right into the floor, man. You have been installed!" Heh. So many references to being screwed. What is that!?

The sermon and the charge from my "bishop" were tremendous. Holy cow! What have I gotten myself into? Carol McVetty was the preacher. Larry Greenfield is the Executive Minister for the ABC-MC and, for you ecclesial types, serves as a bishop of sorts during these times. I do not pledge to serve him, however. I am charged to serve God. Carol said a great many things in her sermon, but the one that is wandering around my brain right now has to do with ministering as a "missional outpost." Though many will be surprised to know this, we are not in Christendom any longer. Church is no longer an assumed part of life. Beloning to a congregation and being active within it no longer assists in securing you a promotion at the office. Carol's sermon was quite remarkable. I can't begin to do it justice here.

The church honored me with their own enthusiasm. Doug Harris gave the charge to the congregation. "What are you going to do with all those new people?" He also led us in prayer and the laying on of hands. I kneeled. Then the search committee came forward. One member of the committee came forward with his daughter. She snuck in close and placed her hand on my shoulder. Then the Council came. Then the membership of the congregation present came forward. Finally the ordained gathered and the others in attendance came forward. I was surrounded by friend, colleagues, and partners in ministry. And we prayed. Boy did we pray. Thanks be to God for Doug and his right ordering of that moment. Often the ordained are the first to come forward...but they did not issue this call. The members of the Community Church of Wilmette did. And it they whom I serve at God's good pleasure.

Thank you one and all for your prayers and your participation. The reception was wonderful. The service was beautiful. The charge was weighty. We all have our work cut out for us. We will all have to do this as one Body. Is there any other way for the church?

Finally, today is the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. This is also the fifth anniversary of my beginning seminary. All of us from my seminary class knew that those events would shape our education and our ministries in a particular/peculiar way. I am still puzzling that out. But in my charge last night, Larry Greenfield said that my responsibility is to Love and to show God's Love to the world, to be an example of it to my congregation so they too may Love as God Loves.

In the continuing wake of 9/11, I hope we may all be witnesses to a God who so loved the world...a God who breathed over chaos and brought from it life...and said it was good.

I'll post the service order later on this week. Today is my day away from the church.

the sermon...tending the garden

Follow the extended link for the sermon. I think it turned out okay.

One of my favorite stories is The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnette. It is the tale of Mary Lennox and her adventures at Misselthwaite, the home of her uncle Archibald Craven.

The characters in this story are rich and full of life.

There is Mary, an orphaned girl. Her parents were killed in a horrible earthquake in India. She is sent to live with her uncle in England at Misselthwaite. She does not cry.

There is her uncle, Archibald Craven. He is a broken man, in spirit and in the flesh. His wife, Lily, has died leaving him fearful and bitter. He has a hump on his back and even a limp.

Colin is Lord Craven’s son. He is an invalid, bedridden his entire life. He is spoiled and cruel.

Ms. Matlock is the housekeeper. She runs the manor staff with an iron fist, caring for Colin and maintaining the home.

There is Martha, the chambermaid and her brother, Dickon, who has almost magical powers.

And then there is the garden itself. The garden is a secret, to be walled up and ignored because it is seen as a place of death. Colin's mother sustained an injury and died because of the garden. So, Lord Craven decides that no one is to go in. It was Lily’s favorite place, once full of life and hope. And now it has become a place that symbolizes death and loss. It must be forgotten…and so too all the pain associated with it. No one may enter.

But this is where the story begins.

One gardener does go in. He had been given charge of it by Lily, Lord Craven’s wife, before she died. And then Mary comes to the manor and is led by a magical bird to the locked gate. She discovers the key in a neglected bedchamber and the dominoes fall.

She and Dickon with some help from the gardener bring the Secret Garden back to life. At first glance, the garden appears to be dead, strangled by weeds and undergrowth and neglect. But as she and Dickon begin to explore it, they discover that the garden is “wick.” It is alive.

They begin to tend the garden…pruning and weeding, watering and planting.

Eventually, they lead Colin to the garden…spoiled, nasty, death obsessed Colin and there he learns to walk. He learns to be human.

And in the end, when Archibald Craven returns home, beckoned by a dream of his wife again in her garden, he discovers a place he thought dead to be full of life, and the son that he thought crippled, able to run and leap and play. His life is transformed. Through the garden, the lives of all are transformed.

Mary Lennox, the young girl "who does not cry," becomes the vehicle for revelation. And she learns to cry.
Colin is healed by his faith and the love of his friends. Lord Craven learns yet again to love.

Eventually in the end all at Misselthwaite are healed when the garden is no longer a secret, walled up, unable to "harm" anyone. As traumatic as the loss of Colin's mother was, as tragic as the loss of Mary's parents was, the promise of love and hope prevails. We cannot shut ourselves off from love and pain. That is a way to imprison ourselves just as Lord Craven attempts to shut off the garden in the process walling off his own heart.

And the garden will not be kept secret.
It has too much to give,
to much life to share.

What is it about a garden? What makes it such a powerful symbol?

A garden is an artform. It is planned. It has an architecture to it.

People who are skilled gardeners will tell you about the virtues of each plant in their garden. They can tell you when they will bloom, how large the plants will grow and how much fruit they will produce. A garden is to be known by its maker and experienced as a place of peace and fruitfulness by those who visit it.

A garden takes work. It takes tending. Gardens don’t happen by accident. They are intentionally crafted; its spaces choreographed with walks and vistas, fountains and benches.

A garden must be weeded, watered, pruned, and given time to rest. Success and failure are found in a garden. There are tomatoes that will not yield fruit, roses that will not bloom. Rabbits will eat their fill. So too will insects. And all are found in the garden.

With all of this at work in a single place, a garden can often seem to have a life of its own.

I realize that many of us here may not consider ourselves gardeners or even “green thumbs.” But for me at least, I have to confess that there is something mystical about a garden. Something deep within me responds to them. And it appears that I am not alone. Gardens have captured the imagination of humanity for thousands of years.
The Garden of Eden
The hanging gardens of Babylon
The Chicago Botanical Gardens…
We sing songs about gardens.
We may write love poetry using the images from a garden.

Awake, O north wind,
and come, O south wind!
Blow upon my garden
that its fragrance may be wafted abroad.

Some nations pride themselves on their gardens…
There are great public gardens,
small family gardens,
and even the occasional secret garden.

St. John of the Cross, a sixteenth century theologian, monk and mystic stated that “the soul is a garden.” For the faithful, tending the soul is a life’s work. It is a gentle work. Souls need to be weeded. Sometimes they need to lie fallow for a while, waiting for God’s grace to pour down like rain. The soul is to be cultivated with love. It is to be tended intentionally, not only in a series of accidental prunings and plantings. It takes diligence to bring a soul to life…patience, love, kindness, forgiveness, and above all, God’s grace.

For me, the church too is a garden. Thus we have our theme for this Sunday and much of our program year. We are, at Community Church, tending the garden.

Our garden has literal walls. There are pathways and vistas of long relationships and new associations. The architecture of faith is our worship life together, our shared prayers and our songs. Our fellowship is no less our tending. There too we find what sustains and grows.

The Community Church has undergone transformation after transformation. It has experienced periods of drought and neglect. It has experienced periods of fruitfulness and growth. It has received grace…God’s love poured down.

A church, this church and any other, is an intentional community. It has planned architecture. It is sustained by patient care…with tending. It needs to be watered. It needs times of rest…to lie fallow. This is a place that can be fruitful. With God, we are the gardeners. We are what is planted and tended as members of this garden. Here we learn to cry. Here we learn to love.

Our scripture today is taken from the Song of Solomon. Some of my friends were teasing me for preaching from it. And their teasing is well founded. What can millennia old erotic love poetry tell us today? But there it is…”love poetry.” Why would the poet, in the wish to express love, hope, desire and passion, choose images from a garden? There could be many reasons, but in the end, I believe it has everything to with how love is to be known and understood.

Love is not to be veiled, hidden away. Love is the fruit of toil and cultivation. It reveals itself in passion and perseverance. It is not lackluster. It is, well, juicy! Love and its desired object is to be proclaimed from the highest hill.

As a lily among brambles,
so is my love among maidens.

As an apple tree among the trees of the wood,
so is my beloved among young men.
With great delight I sat in his shadow,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
and his intention towards me was love.

***

At the end of the movie adaptation of The Secret Garden, Mary tells us that in the garden she learned to cry and that Archibald Craven learned again how to love. She says that this is what the garden taught them. And then, as the camera pans over the walls of the garden, the little girl says, “and perhaps we have learned to see that the whole world is a garden. “

The promise of the garden is one in which the whole world shares. This is the passion of the love poet. This is the passion of one smitten by the virtues of another. Why would we wall it in and keep it a secret? Have we not been smitten by the virtues of God? Is there nothing to proclaim?

Brothers and sisters, this church is the Garden of our Lord. Here is love proclaimed, God’s love for the whole world. Here we gather, our intentions clear, shared with one another and made known to the world. We are in the midst of God’s love affair with the world…and this must be proclaimed from the highest hill.

Awake, O north wind,
and come, O south wind!
Blow upon [our] garden
that its fragrance may be wafted abroad.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.

secret garden: sermon fodder

I am thinking about the story The Secret Garden. The characters are fun to craft into Christian virtues or biblical typologies. Mary, the young (orphaned) girl "who does not cry," becomes the vehicle for revelation. Colin is the boy healed by his faith. The garden is a place of transformation when Mary learns to cry and Colin's father learns to love.

There is something else in there that I am trying to put my fingers on; the garden is a secret, to be walled up and ignored because it is seen as a place of death. Colin's mom sustained an injury and died in the garden...if I have my details right. No one is to go in. But one gardener does...and then Mary is led by a magical bird to the doorway...and the dominoes fall.

Eventually all are healed when the garden is no longer a secret, walled up, unable to "harm" anyone. I think that there is some kind of disillusionment at work as well. As traumatic as the loss of Colin's mother was, as tragic as the loss of Mary's parents was, the promise of love and hope prevails. We cannot shut ourselves off from love and pain. That is a way to imprison ourselves. And the garden cannot be kept secret. It has too much to give, to much life to share.

As an aside, Ms. Matlock is the woman blinded by the world. She cannot recognise hope and healing. She can only see misbehavior as the social order is challenged. She is utterly convinced that she is doing a good thing. That is true. But by the end of the movie she sees how wrong she was. That is an interesting tale of redemption as well.

Somehow, I can find a little of myself in each character in the story. I wonder if most of us could.

At the end of the movie adaptation, Mary says something about how she learned to cry in the garden and that opened her eyes to see that all the world is a garden. The promise of the garden is one in which the whole world shares.

The twist for the church is that we have to proclaim it as well. Go forth into the world...let it know that it is a garden...where we can learn to cry and to love.

about war...

The Young Fogey linked to this post by Jonathan Allen. I think that the entire text needs to be here. I think that