Tuesday, March 24, 2009

A Surprising Lenten Journey

I have embarked on a journey that I did not intend to be a spiritual wandering, Lenten style, but that is what is happening. I am currently taking a week's study leave at Duke Divinity School, from whence I graduated exactly thirty years ago. As one might expect, much has changed since then. The part of the divinity school that was known as "new divinity" back then is now known as the Langford Building, after the former dean, provost and theology professor. The name had to be changed because there is now a new addition to the school which is magnificent, and which rendered the former new divinity, old. So, I have had to learn my way around, get used to the fact that there is no longer a parking lot behind the school, and let it sink in that the chapel at the divinity school is a real chapel now, not a study hall in the library that was used as a chapel for many years, including the time that I was here.
So, those and many other aspects of the place have changed since I was a student here. There is just one professor left from my time, and he will retire this year. The faculty is different, the student body is a generation removed from mine and the whole place has wireless internet access! What has surprised me most is the sense that I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses here. Sitting in chapel during worship, I was transported to my days as a student, singing in the chapel choir and preaching my senior sermon. Suddenly, all of the people from that time can flooding into my memory. I thought of classmates whom I have not thought about in years, young, laughing, dreaming. I feel them as a palpable presence with me, and I see myself, as a young, idealistic student who had no idea what lay head of him. I have sat in on classes, only to discover that their content was not really new to me. I wanted to take charge and talk about what this stuff really means "out there" among God's people. But I sat quietly and listened, for they will make their own discoveries, just as I did. I think of my classmates who have died, and they will always be young and vibrant and still here, all around,
in my mind's eye..
I did not expect this journey to have this almost supernatural glint to it; I just came down for study leave. But I am being transformed by the place, the people and the memories of all who have gone before this current crop of students. I don't belong here anymore, and yet, I will never completely separate myself from the place. There will always be a little part of this unspeakably beautiful place in my heart. It helped to form me, and I am still influenced by the people and the place. So, during this season of Lent, as spring unfurls its beauty and the mystical sense of the presence of God everywhere manifests itself, I hope you too have an unexpected and uncharted journey into the very heart of yourself, your life and your connection to God.

Monday, March 9, 2009

What Happens When We Un-circle the Wagons?

Since spring break is coming and I will not have a chapel service next Sunday, I am taking the liberty of veering away from the lectionary text this week. And yes, I do feel somewhat naughty for doing that! One of the great blessings in working in religious life on a college campus is that one may have the opportunity to engage folks of other, or no, religious traditions more often than one may have the opportunity to do in the parish. Such is the case on this campus. We have a thriving collection of religious traditions here. Those with organized groups include Christian (Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox), Jewish, Muslim and soon, Hindu. We also have a small group of Buddhists who are trying to get together for regular meditation. We created an Interfaith Council three years ago, and it has become a catalyst for interfaith dialogue and cooperation. Students tend to be more willing to step outside of their own comfort zones to learn about the religious traditions and truths of others. Thanks to some discussions we had during a visit by the Interfaith Youth Core, I have a better grasp on the purpose and promise of inviting persons to the table who would consider themselves agnostic and atheist. Yes, all of this has to do with getting over the need to feel protective of one's religious tradition or territory. Our religious traditions survived for hundreds of years before we arrived on the scene, and they will live on long after we go. I have good friends who do not understand my seeming preoccupation with this interfaith work. Am I not happy as a Christian? Is not the Christian faith enough for me? Well, those are fair questions, and I guess the answer to both is a qualified "no." I am not happy when the Christan Church seems to function as a club for the "haves" and a way to inspire envy and jealousy in the "have nots." And if Christianity means that I should not be in dialogue with those of other faith traditions, yea, if it insists that my religion is the only true way, then perhaps it is not for me.
Happily, I remain a devoted Christian, because I perceive Christian faith as being much more concerned with opening doors than with closing them. And frankly, I am happier because I can admit that Christianity is not about me only, but about all of God's creation. And, I have become a better Christian, a more thoughtful person of faith because I have had regular conversations with persons of other faith traditions. I feel less necessity to work circling the wagons to preserve orthodoxy than others may think that I should. Our future in exploring
multifaith traditions and conversations on this campus is beckoning, and it promises to be a great ride. I wouldn't miss it for the world!

Monday, March 2, 2009

Of Pisces and Misunderstanding - Mark 8:31-38

When I was in college I used to wear a fish pin on the lapel of my denim (ugh!) suit. I wore it as a faith symbol, as in icthus, the English transliteration of the Greek initial letters for Jesus Christ, God's Son, Savior. So, imagine my disappointment when someone came up to me and commented, "Nice Pisces pin!" Never having been much of a fan of, or believer in the signs of the Zodiac, I was heartsick. I took the pin off the lapel and never wore it again. Fortunately, I also stopped wearing that denim suit not long after that. The whole incident got me to thinking about how easy it is to wear a pin which represents some aspect of one's faith, and how difficult it is to explain that faith. I was caught off-guard by the astrological reference and was probably less than graceful in my explanation of my rationale for wearing the fish pin.
We are much more comfortable sometimes with bumper stickers than we are with the real message of our faith. Lent is our reminder that some folks would consider the central tenet of our faith to be somewhat un-pretty. In Mark's gospel, Jesus states that those who follow him should be ready to surrender all, including their lives. Peter did not care for that interpretation, and made his displeasure known. Apparently, Peter did not care for the return he was getting on his emotional and spiritual investment. He had hoped that there would be something more akin to the Jesus Christ Superstar mode of messiah. We resist the thought that discipleship must necessarily be costly. But that costly discipleship has an up side. Bishop Ken Carder has stated that "by following a crucified Christ, we can face our own vulnerability." We don't like being vulnerable if we can avoid it. It is easier to have one's guard up and at the ready, because we don't want others to see the uncertainty of our faith that we see daily. If only we could take comfort in the knowledge that God not only knows of our uncertainties and secret suffering, but God is a "fellow sufferer who understands" in the words of Alfred North Whitehead. Then we would have nothing to hide. I remember feeling somewhat sheepish at having to explain the real meaning of my lapel fish. I no longer feel embarrassed at revealing myself as a person of faith. Instead, I feel a great responsibility to get the message right. Thanks be to God that God knows me well enough to encourage me, even when I stumble over the explanation.