More Reflections from the Abbey Guesthouse

The monks enter for the evening incense vigil. In two rows they approach the altar. Two by two they bow before the altar and then turn, bowing to each other as they back away.

The incense is placed in the censer. The smoke begins to rise, filling the front of the chapel, drifting towards us. Slowly, the smell reaches my noise. It is sweet, earthy, almost reminiscent of the beach--maybe the scent of driftwood. I breathe deeply as I watch the smoke rise upward, like prayers ascending to God.

We are outsiders--not monks, not even Catholic--but we have been allowed to be apart of the community. At the same time, as men from the same church, we are feeling the increase of own community, growing closer to one another as we share and worship and play.

Being here has being caused us to slow down. You can't rush when you come to pray together. It doesn't matter much, I realized today, that I haven't gotten a bunch of spiritual disciplines accomplished. A retreat isn't about that. It's about slowing down. It's about refocusing, resting and renewing. In this case (as a group retreat), it's about relationships as well.

I guess it's always about relationships: our relationship with God, our relationship with others, our relationship with self. That is the focus of the Great Commandment, of course.

Part of the incense vigil, as I understand, is a "cleansing" of the worship space in preparation for the Sunday mass. We are cleansed as well in some ways. We are cleansed from the busy routines of life. We are cleansed from many of the worldly influences that distract us during our week. We are cleansed from isolation. We are cleansed from tedium and routine that prevent us from noticing God around us.

For a weekend at least my spirit is back on track (mostly). I have experienced close community. I have felt God's presence. I have been in worship.

And hopefully, I pray, those things will continue beyond this weekend. And if not--if I need another retreat at some point to remind my of these things--my life is still all the richer. I can recall the scent of the incense and I am back before the altar, bowing to my Lord, remembering that it is His will, not mine that I try to live by.

Reflections from the Abbey Guesthouse

This morning I woke up on a semi-hard mattress in a dark room. I peer out the window. I faintly see the outline of the trees along the lake, but otherwise darkness blankets the snow-covered landscape. I put on my clothes as my friend and roommate Peter freshens up in the bathroom. When we were both ready we headed downstairs to the lobby of the Abbey Guesthouse to join the other six men from our church that are at St. John's with us for our men's retreat. We head over to the abbey for morning prayers at 7am.

We had arrived yesterday on Friday afternoon. It was my second visit to be a monastic community. My first had been last fall to St. Benedict's for a day of retreat and renewal. There we joined the sisters for their mid-day prayer. Here we join the brothers--last night at 5pm and at 7pm. In a few minutes we will join them again for mid-day prayers.

I enjoy these moments. I wish that, like the monks, I was able to take a break from work during the day when the bells ring and pause with community to pray and read the Psalms.

I enjoy the back and forth reading and chanting of the psalms. First their side, then our side, then back to the other side.

One thing you learn when praying with a monastic community is that you don't rush it. At first I cringe a little as they pause at the end of each line of the Psalm, not reading it as a complete sentence when that is the case between lines. I awkwardly wait until I know it is time for our choir to say the line. I fear speaking before the group. So I pause and listen.

After a while this becomes second nature, and I appreciate the time to sit and soak in the words--not rushing through them for the sake of getting the reading done, but to savor them.

I ruminate on how the monks bow before the crucifix as the enter and leave, as they say the Gloria and at other parts during the service. Some may do it out of ritual, but I notice the way most do it with meaning. They acknowledge Christ as the Lord and Master of their lives. They come before Him as His servant.

Here the youthful novitiates and the older, wisened brethern sit together. There is honor and respect, but there is also fellowship.

And when the bells ring, the work stops. The work is important, but it is not the full meaning of the day. The prayers are important, but they are not the full meaning of the day. The times of study are important but they are not the full meaning of the day. It is all of it together: work, prayer, study, community, individual, neighbor and Christ.

And so, as I hear the ringing of the large bells outside the abbey, I know it is time for me to pause and get ready to go pray and say the Psalms.

I Don't Particularly Like to Bait Hooks

Mark 1:14-20 (our text at church tonight) is a familiar passage to most. In it Jesus calls his first disciples: Andrew, Peter, James and John. Two sets of brothers who all made their living netting fish out of the Sea of Galilee. From the passage (and it's parallel in Matthew) comes the familiar phrase, "I will make you fishers of men" (or "I will teach you to fish for people"). It's a nice phrase. Much has been done with it. Maybe too much. If that is our focus of the passage, we have made too much of it.

Pastor Jan pointed out how we're not all fishermen/women. The metaphor only goes so far. Gleaning info from another blog (the author of which I'm forgetting, so I'm sorry I can't point you to the source a little better), Jan noted that if the first disciples had been carpenters, Jesus would have invited them to "follow me and build my Kingdom." If they had been farmers Jesus might have said, "Follow me and sow seeds of Good News." If they had been of some other profession, Jesus would have found an apt analogy for their call to discipleship. Pastor Jan points out that Jesus calls them as they are. He calls us as we are...to be ourselves. That is who He wants. God has only ever created one of us. He needs us to be ourselves that we might each have a unique contribution to His Kingdom.

The other issue I have with how we tend to use the "Follow me and I will make you fishers" line is that we tend to focus on our strengths. Jesus never talks about strengths when He calls people to follow Him. We lived in a leadership-driven world (which is a future blog post in itself); we take strength assessments. We know our spiritual gifts. We learn the top five/seven/ten principles of being a strong leader. But Jesus never calls us to be leaders. He calls us to be followers. And He never tells us to be strong. He tells us that in our weakness, He is strong.

Jesus doesn't call the disciples saying, "Come be leaders and I'll using your fishing skills." Instead He says, "Be my follower, and I'll use what you know to make an impact in areas where you're weak--saving the lost, for instance." As we see the disciples interact with Jesus throughout the Gospels, it's very clear He didn't call them because they were the smartest, brightest, strongest or best that Judea had to offer. They were clearly men with weaknesses. And I believe Jesus called them because of that fact.

As Pastor Jan exhorted tonight--we need to follow Jesus as ourselves...not as the Christian we think we're supposed to be, not hiding our unique characteristics. You may be like me and are still discovering who God made you to be. As you learn to be who you are (and discover who you are), don't hide your weaknesses. Embrace them. Know that through them, Jesus works.

Listening, Being Present and The New York Philharmonic

A couple days ago the New York Philharmonic and its director, Alan Gilbert, were in the news--not so much for their music, but because they had to stop a concert--right at the end of Mahler's Symphony No. 9. At issue: a ringing cellphone. At the beginning of the concert, as I understand, a pre-recorded message from Alec Baldwin, even asked people to turn off their cell phones. (I also understand that the perpetrator of this faux pas had just gotten the phone newly from work and didn't know that an alarm was set on it.)

We've all been in movie theaters or concerts or meetings or other places when someone has forgotten to turn off their cell phone and it goes off in the middle of things. I've done it myself. It's easy to forget to do. And sometimes we need to be reached--if our kids have an emergency for instance.

But we've all probably been in theaters, concerts or meetings where someone continues to talk, ignoring everyone else around them.

Tonight's text at church was 1 Samuel 1 in which God calls to young Samuel, who is in the temple with Eli. God calls to Samuel during the night. Samuel wakes up, thinking that Eli is calling him, but Eli tells him to go back to bed because he hadn't called Samuel. After three times, Eli finally realizes that God is speaking to Samuel, so he instructs Samuel to respond to God.

God, ever so patient and gracious with giving us several chances, calls to Samuel once more.

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

And God speaks to Samuel. Not just then, but the rest of his life.

God still speaks. But we must be listening to hear. We must be willing to be present and available to Him.

Continually having our cell phones on does not constitute "being present." More likely, having our cell phones or ipods turned off makes us more present to others.

But listening to God or to others involves just turning off technology. Being present is a posture we take. We are, as much as possible, available and ready when God or someone else desires to speak to us. We are aware of self, but not absorbed with self.

When Samuel responds to God, he does so with the label of "servant." That is the role He calls us to as well. Serving others--our calling and purpose--is living out our love, both for God and others. Being present is living out love.

This is why the Rule of Benedict begins with the word, "Listen." Benedict knew that for a community to thrive and to live out their commission of loving God and loving others, they needed to be present. Awareness of God, Respect for Others, Hospitality, Taking Counsel and Listening are all core values of Benedictine communities and new monastic churches. They were core values of Jesus, as well. These values take a posture of being present.

Turning off your cell phone shows consideration for others. Turning them your ear shows them love.

God desires our ear as well.

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.

Reflections on MLK

On Friday I was subbing as a para in a school nearby. In one class we got to see an historical actress tell us about Jane Adam's life and her founding of the Hull House in Chicago. It was quite a remarkable story (and the actress did a great job bring Jane Adams as well as an immigrant woman to life). She was all about serving others and helping to give immigrant families (as well as any poor) a better life.

In another class we watched a video about Martin Luther King, Jr. We didn't talk much about MLK when I was in school. We knew who he was, but his birthday wasn't really celebrated yet, and I lived in a rural community of less than a thousand people that was pretty homogenous. It didn't seem like King's life affected us too much.

But without King's life, I wouldn't be living where I am today...one of the few white males on my block in the midst of Somali, Hmong, Ecuadorian, Native American, African American and mixes of many races. My kids wouldn't have the blessing of diversity in their classes at school.

Have we come a long way? Yes. Do we still have a journey ahead of yes? Yes.

If we think that King was all about Black rights, then we missed his message. He marched and sat in jails for the sake of equality for all: African Americans, Latinos, Asian Americans, Native Americans and even whites. His dream was for our American foundation to be fulfilled that all people are created equal. We still have a ways to go. Women still make less money than men in the same job with the same amount of experience. African Americans are imprisoned at a rate much higher than other races. Poverty and disease is highest among people of color. When we moved into our neighborhood we were told that whites don't belong here. Racism, segregation and divisions still exist among us. We can't move forward as a nation if we are leaving each other behind. King's dream wasn't for himself, but for future generations. He was living change forward.

King based his approach of nonviolent protestation on Gandhi. Gandhi's struggle for freedom in India was the one example King had witness of nonviolent activism working. Gandhi based his approach on the teachings of Jesus. King, being a pastor, was familiar with Jesus' teachings of "turn the other cheek" and "love your enemy." But Gandhi, not the church, was where he had to turn for seeing it lived out.

Justice is a thing of Christ, not of social activists. Jesus came and turned social structures upside down. He touched those whom society said not to go near, He reached below the class system and lifted people up (as well as humbling those who were lofty), He showed love to those who were considered enemies of the faithful Jews and He welcomed everyone--young, old, rich, poor, sick, impaired, lame, male, female--into His loving presence.

It's not easy. To reach beyond our own culture is hard work. We've experienced this even in Minneapolis. The inner city--no matter what color the people are--has a very different culture than the suburbs (again, no matter what race). We're drawn to what and who we're familiar with and comfortable. But in stepping over those divides, in working to bridge cultures, we enrich our lives.

I believe that what King was working toward was Heaven here on earth (Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven). Heaven will not be a place for just whites. Or just blacks. Or just Koreans. There will be no segregation. Every tribe, tongue, and nation will be there praising God. Without prejudice, division or separation. For we are all created in God's image. It is in our diversity that we see the greatness of God. And when we trod each other down and hold other's back we limit our understanding of who God is. He is love. He loves all, for all are His children. Jane Adams knew this. Martin Luther King, Jr. knew this. Even Mahondas Gandhi knew this. May we know it and embody it as well.

Epiphanies, Baptisms and the Holy Spirit

This past week we celebrated Epiphany (January 6)--a day when many in the church celebrate the visit of the Magi to the Christ child. Epiphany means "manifestation" or "revelation." That visit marked the first revelation of God's Son to non-Jewish people. The Good News came for all people. All. Every one.

Today we marked the baptism of Jesus by His cousin John. This event is usually part of epiphany as well, since God verbally revealed His Son--His beloved in whom He is well-pleased. No one present had room to doubt whom Jesus was.

Jesus' baptism has always been a mystery to me...Jesus didn't need to be baptized. He didn't need to repent--He was perfect, sinless. He didn't need to confess or be washed clean. He wouldn't be marking Himself as a follower of...Himself. Nor would He be doing it to identify with His death and resurrection. There is no "spiritual" reason for Jesus to be baptized.

His baptism mainly seems to be for our sake. 1) So that we can follow Him in His baptism when we follow Him. 2) And God makes His Son known to us. In the Gospel of Mark, this is where we meet the Christ. Not in the stable. Not as a child. As an obscure adult from Nazareth. But the Holy Spirit descends upon Him and the Father says that He is well pleased with His beloved Son.

Later, after Pentecost--after Jesus has ascended into Heaven and the Holy Spirit has been given to the Disciples, nearly anytime someone becomes a follower of Christ two things happen: 1) they are baptized, and 2) the Holy Spirit descends on them. The three events (believing, baptism and the Holy Spirit) are often connected.

Sometimes I wish I had that experience. Most Western evangelicals tend to put focus on praying a prayer to accept Jesus into your heart (we also seldom note the cost of following Christ). Of course, there is no "magic formula" to becoming a follower of Christ. But there is something special in believing, receiving the Holy Spirit and being baptized. I wonder if I'm missing out because I haven't had that seemingly visible experience of having the Holy Spirit descend upon me.

After the sermon at church tonight, we had the opportunity to go to one of four people who were available for us to have them pray for us to receive the Holy Spirit. Not that we don't have the Holy Spirit, but I'm not sure that we're always "full" of the Holy Spirit. I know there's plenty of my "flesh" in my life that needs to get out of the way to make room for more of the Spirit. I also know that I had that that "supernatural" tingling feeling when I was prayed over (it's similar to when I'm receiving sage advice from an elder--something I've been convinced is the Holy Spirit getting my attention).

At any rate, I know that I need more of the Holy Spirit in my life, and less of myself. I guess epiphanies (even if they're a bit obvious like that) still happen today.

A Cavalcade of Creches

We have a few Nativity scenes in our house...

• A Playmobil Nativity for young hands to play with.
• Another wooden Nativity (on display in the bathroom this year), again for young hands to play with.
• A ceramic Nativity that Anders gave to Beth last Christmas (he had picked it up at a children's Christmas "shopping" event).
• A simple three-piece set we purchased in Ecuador.

Also (unpacked in our basement) are:

• Another ceramic set we were given for our wedding.
• And a stuffed fabric set that I had when I was little.
• There maybe be one more that I'm forgetting!

We don't collect them, like some people might, but we do have a few sets around. They do set the stage for the Christmas season, after all. And the child-friendly ones are great for the kids to use to re-enact the story.

If there's one that stands apart, it is the Ecuadorian Nativity--simply because it is very reflective of their culture.

But they all are, of course. Most of the figures (with the occasional exception of a magi or two) are pretty white. None look Middle Eastern. Even their clothes tend to take on a western flair at times.

Our pastor recently shared on Christmas Eve how she was bothered as a kid (and adult!) by the Nativity set around growing up. None of the people were wearing authentic Middle-Eastern first century clothing. A shepherd was wearing a fedora! Most had nice leather boots on.

She and her husband recently took a dream trip to Germany for Advent. They saw Nativity scenes everywhere: town squares, store counters, hotel plazas. And she noticed that some had unauthentic clothing. Then she came across one in a church that had the city painted in the background, and it clicked. The Nativity scenes had often been done by placing the event in the crafter's cultural scenario. Emmanuel: God with us. Christ had come to be with us, to live among us, to be one of us.

So when you do an image search for "Korean Nativity," you'll find wonderfully carved sets that look...well, very Korean. If you look up "Nigerian Nativity" you'll see images of shepherd and magi in African dress. Even in my neighborhood you'll see black Santas in the stores (if they sold Nativity sets, they'd feature black characters).

This is the meaning of Christmas and the reality of the Holy Spirit: God lives among us, within us. He can identify with us as He knows what we go through.

Jesus was a first century Jew. That is certain. But He is also a 21st century American, Latvian, Argentinian, Somali, Hmong and Maori. Christ comes into our culture to give us life, forgiveness, grace and love. Not just on Christmas Day, but everyday.

Don't Rush It

I've heard of stores already having Valentine's Day items out (who buys holiday stuff several months before hand anyway?). Don't rush out of Christmas. It's only the end of the third day of Christmas as it is (remember those twelve days of Christmas? They start Christmas Day--not on Thanksgiving or anytime before hand). Christmas lasts until January 6, when we celebrate Epiphany (the revelation of Jesus Christ as the Son of God through the visit of the Magi). In much of Europe, Christmas trees aren't traditionally put up until Christmas Eve and stay up until Epiphany.

So don't rush Christmas. The world (especially commercialism part of it) tries to do that far too quickly for us. We've been waiting for four weeks. Savor the revelation of the new born King. Make room in your heart for Him. And remember we are Advent people--people who wait for Christ to return...and live in such a manner that we are ready for His return.

Most radio stations--even the Christian ones--have stopped playing Christmas music already. Decorations will be down all too soon. The new toys will be broken or tossed aside in a few days. What's left of the Christmas cookies will (hopefully) soon be gone. The holiday (holy day) season doesn't last long (at least the real holy days--not the commercial stuff that is pushed on us)--the material stuff is quickly gone, and we too easily move on from the spiritual implications.

We've got one more family Christmas gathering yet. Our tree will stay up for at least another week and a half. We try to savor the reminders that our Savior has come...that God lived amongst us. I often need those reminders. Maybe you do too--so savor it, don't rush it.

Merry Christmas!

Incarnation

God came to earth;
The Creator became the "created."
He came, not in a way anyone
Would expect the Lord Most High
To come to earth.

There was no pomp and circumstance,
No fanfare, no fireworks, no parade.

He came amidst the smells and dirt
Of a barn, born as a baby--
Helpless, frail, needy.
Livestock greeted Him to earth.
Their feed trough was His bed.

The angels announced His birth
Not to kings or emperors or emissaries,
But to lowly sheep tenders.
These men with dirt under their fingernails
And manure under their boots
Were entrusted with spreading the news
Of the birth of God's own Son.

He came, unexpected and unannounced
In the midst of dirt and filth
To show us the way to Heaven--
Descending to serve, stooping to love.

He came as one of us,
Showing us how to live and to love;
Loving us fully--even as a babe
Wrapped in cloths and laid to sleep
In a feed trough in a stable.

Great is His love;
Great is our joy.

It Is A Wonderful Life

We had some good friends over tonight. Most of the family (I think all except the husband) had never seen "It's A Wonderful Life"--a wrong which I had to see righted. So we invited them over for our pizza and a movie night.

Watching the movie for the umpteenth time tonight, I noticed something that I hadn't seen before (a good movie always has something new to take away). When George Bailey, now grown up and married, is in his office at the Bailey Bros. Building & Loan, there is a sign below his father's picture. It says:

"All that you can take with you is that which you've given away."

Isn't that rich? Really, it's part of the theme of the movie. George Bailey learns that his life mattered because he had given so much to others. And when he's in need, they are there to give back to him.

When I get to the point in the movie when the angel Clarence is going to grant George's wish to see what things would be like if he had never been born, I get anxious. Not for George, but for me. I have this fear that if I had that opportunity to see how the world would be if I had never been born that I would find out the world would be a better place.

Right now my wife is listening to a podcast TED Talk on "The Power of Vulnerability." So, being vulnerable, I'll share that I have insecurities. I don't feel I'm good enough. I have a desire (as do all of us) to be affirmed, to be needed. At some point in my life, I developed some insecurity in feeling not wanted/needed/good enough. I feel I haven't done that much in my life--that if my life hadn't happened, that the world might possibly be better and instead of worse off.

Now, in my brain I know this isn't true. I know that I've done things that matter (heck, I've brought wonderful kids into this world for one). But (and this is a theme with a lot of my struggles in life), my head doesn't always communicate with my heart well. What I know to be true, isn't always lived out the best.

But at the end of the movie, when Mary has gathered all the people whose lives have been affected by George and they come to rescue him, my eyes are getting watery because I do know that each life matters--that my life matters.

And though some days may suck and be extremely difficult to get through, I do believe that it's a wonderful life (sometimes my heart just needs my brain to remind it of that). And my life will have mattered because of what I've given away: my time, my talents, my gifts and my love.

May you know the wonderfulness and meaningfulness of your life as well.