Sacred Space Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18

The passage from Genesis is full of images that are, at once, strange and beautiful. One should not try to write or speak about every part of the story. I, for one, will not be spending time this weekend imagining the various pieces of animal flesh surrounding Abram as fire passed between them. I just returned from a conference in North Carolina, and they have the best barbecue anyway. The part of the Genesis passage that appeals to me most is the portion where the Lord takes Abram out alone and asks him to look at the stars and to try to number them, for such will be the number of his descendants. One of my fondest memories from my youth was of a stargazing expedition which was a part of a Boy Scout weekend at out troop's cabin. Several of us were accompanied by our scout leaders to a field, with nothing but flashlights and star charts as equipment. I can still remember the silence, the almost supernatural stillness of that night. Our cabin was isolated, and the sky was pitch black, except for millions of twinkling stars. I mention this experience because it was a time in which I sensed the presence of God so keenly. I think the Genesis passage gives us an opportunity to ask ourselves the following question:"When or where do I sense God's presence in a way that is true in no other place?" Do we have places that are set apart, where we feel a sense of something supernatural so strongly that it changes us anew each time we are there? Why do we sense it? How do we explain it, if we can, in fact, do so? When we find ourselves in that place, do we seem to have a different sense about ourselves than we do when we reside in other places? Does the time spent in those special places enable us to accomplish things as a result of being there that we are not as able, or willing to do otherwise?
I believe that these questions might have been asked by Abram, because theophanies tend to cause such introspection. However, my recent trip back to a place that has been significant to me for all of my adult life had no light shows or flames in the night. Rather, it was so much like my childhood experience of stargazing: there was just an assurance of a presence of One beyond myself and others. The One who was present was simply reminding me of all that has transpired in my life thus far, and of the experiences, good and bad, that have made me the person that I am. I live my life in the midst of an academic community that bustles everyday, and students do not have much opportunity for solitude. I worry sometimes that they do not know how to handle silence, and so, do not seek it out. There is a danger, then, that they may have difficulty finding the kind of sacred space in which the presence of Another is undeniable. Perhaps the story of Abram can entice them to want to find such a place.

Another Ash Wednesday

One knows that one has lived a long time when the beginning of the Lenten season comes to mind as "another Ash Wednesday." In my first parish after divinity school, the people were quite surprised when I suggested that we have an Ash Wednesday service. It took about three years before they were ready to get on-board with the idea. Then, as now, the perception was that Ash Wednesday is something that Catholics do. Every year, at least one of the local news stations will cover the Ash Wednesday observances at local churches and will refer to it "a day day for Catholics to reflect on the Lenten season." On my own college campus, it is an effort each year to try to get some Protestants to attend the ecumenical service that we offer.
The fact is, Lent is a Christian, not a Catholic observance. The Catholic Church has been much more faithful in its observance of the season than have Protestants, though the Protestant community is catching up, slowly. Many students, Protestant and Catholic, fret about what they will "give up" for Lent. After all, it should not be something that will hurt too much, and some things are not even on the table for discussion: chocolate, coffee, beer. Others scoff at the idea of giving up something, saying that it does not mean anything to do so. Some have stated that Lent should be a time to take on something new, such as a discipline, or a service project, or a fitness regimen.
I think that whatever one decides to do to observe Lent is important, because it means that one has made a conscious decision to at least do something. Many Christians do not want to be "brought down" by having to think about the painful part of the gospel narratives. They love Christmas and Easter, but don't care much for Ash Wednesday and Good Friday.
Yes, it's another Ash Wednesday, and I will observe it as a holy day, and the beginning of a season where I have yet another opportunity to so some serious meditation on my faith and my life. Some would say that I should do that everyday, not just during a season on the church calendar. In an ideal world, that would be the standard. But I am human, fallible and prone to lapses at times. So, for me, Lent is a season to look within myself, with all of my imperfections, and to know that God is with me. So, thanks be for another Ash Wednesday.

A God Too Familiar? Isaiah 6:1-8

We were having a conversation at my house over the weekend about the way in which people refer to God. My daughter recalled a time when she was in a group and the leader of worship asked everyone to join him in prayer, and he began the prayer by saying, "Hi Dad." I remembered a time, as well, when I was in a large worship setting and the leader introduced a prayer time by saying, "Let's talk to Dad." For some, such familiar salutations for God call to mind the literal meaning of a word that Jesus used to address God, which was "Abba." Abba can be translated Father or even Daddy.
Since I always referred to my late father as "Dad," I don't feel comfortable using such a title for the Almighty. I should also say that I go to great lengths to remove any references to God that ascribe gender, because I believe that using such pronouns as He or She, or names such as Father or Mother limit our ability to imagine a God that does not fit into any of our preconceived categories. It may come as a surprise to some who know me that I rather like the image of the Almighty that Isaiah witnessed in his dream. In that vision, God sat on a throne, high and lifted up, and the mere edge of God's robe filled the entire Temple. Now there is an image of God that cannot be boiled down to a folksy Dad. So, is that a bad thing then? This writer does not think so.
Our culture is not easily awed, because everything is made so familiar. We have e-mail, social networking, texting. Even small children refer to adults by their first names, when those of us of a certain age always referred to our elders as Mr. or Mrs. It is hard not to like informal address from children, because it means that said child feels comfortable around adults and feels that adults are people to whom the little one can relate. But are there are times when a child should address an adult as Mr. or Mrs. or by a title? And is there not still room for a sense of formality, or awe, in our worship? In thinking about the ways in which God was envisioned in ancient times, Darrell Jodock, writing in The Christian Century, observed that "For half a century, Isaiah would guide the people of Judah through a crisis that they were religiously unprepared to face. His encounter with God is telling. God is "sitting on a throne, high and lofty." .... This God is much more exalted than the domesticated deity worshiped during Judah's period of power and prosperity. In the presence of this God even attending seraphs cover their faces and their feet. Isaiah can only say, "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!"
The whole concept of religious belief is under attack in popular culture and atheism is often thought of as cool,especially on college and university campuses. Such a belief in non-belief is accessible, certainly, and some see it as the only rational explanation for a troubled world such as ours. So, is it not expedient then, also to make God as accessible as possible? Is that not why churches are working to make worship more attractive to everyday folks? We are asked to make worship less threatening by getting rid of hymnals and projecting the words to hymns on to screens in the front of the church. We are told to emphasize casual attire to enhance an atmosphere of welcome and comfort. Working with college students for a generation, I well-understand the need to construct worship experiences that are meaningful and welcoming, especially for students who may not have attended worship before. So, it may come as a surprise to some that I have had students tell me that they would like to dress up for chapel, if that is okay. They say that it makes them feel as if they are showing respect. So, folks know that they come come to chapel dressed up, or down.
Isaiah reminds us that God the Almighty One is above all, not simply a being on our level, as familiar as Dad or Mom or as a best friend. There is a certain theological sophistication that must be present to enable us to see God as both an approachable and a transcendent being. Living in a world that sometimes prefers shallow to substantive, such a balancing act is good exercise for people of faith, and for those who observe us.