Life of the Church


Alrighty folks.  This one came from this week’s Exegete.

Appropriate music to listen in the background: True Blood Sountrack, London Calling, or the Tallis Scholars.

Appropriate accent to affect in head while reading: Generic Southern.

This, on St. Paul’s commentary to the church at Corinth, concerning whether or not to eat meat sacrificed to other gods… (1 Corinthians 8:1-13)

Once upon a time there was a Voodoo Chicken.  It was known as Voodoo Chicken because it was used in a vaudun ritual, but you know, it was also marinated afterwards in the most mouthwatering fashion.  And you know, a dinner party is a dinner party.  You can’t fault your host for their odd taste in religious piety when they serve mouthwateringly good roasted chicken.  Some of us like to say a little, unobtrusive blessing over our food, but to each their own, right?  And since we all know (in our separate religions) that ours is the only right one, there’s no harm in letting other people attempt to invoke a god that doesn’t actually exist, so live and let live. And pass the chicken.

This is all well and good when you’re surrounded by people who are firm in their faith, whatever that faith may be.  The Vauduns know that eating the Voodoo Chicken will bring them closer to fine, and the Christians know that the Vauduns really know how to roast a chicken or twelve, and that their own understanding of God requires neither chicken nor lack of chicken for Divine Union.

However, it all goes to hell in a hand basket but quick when you’ve got newbies in your midst.  Newbies get a little rabid, you know, and they’re really clear about wanting to get things Perfectly Correct and Appropriate.  It really hits the fan when your newbie is their oldie.  Then you’ve got someone looking at your enjoyment of the damn chicken (whose not actually damned, just damned inconvenient) and their knee jerk reaction is that you’re getting a little closer to fine, when it’s really just the seasonings.  Now, these newbies know it’s not Divine Union, because our God doesn’t go in for Chicken.  This is about the time that the confusion and resentment sets in.  Perhaps there’s even some serious doubt about the bigger things of life – they are newbies, remember.

So, you know. Practice discretion.  Not because there’s anything wrong with the Om Nommy goodness of the Vaudun’s chicken dinners, but because in the long run, is your gastronomical satisfaction really worth causing that much angst amongst the newbies? Give the Voodoo Chicken a pass while they’re in the room, for heaven’s sake.   You can always have some next week.

An Introduction

So, I was making the morning coffee in that bleary-eyed way one does, thinking about making breakfast with one of my housemates whereupon I spied a bright green tri-fold brochure which heralded “Discordianism: The Un-Religion”.  My curiosity was piqued…

Anarchy

One of my housemates is an Anarchist.  I can tell you that his name is Henri because his name isn’t actually Henri.  We didn’t get along very well at first, Henri and I.  This, I think, is because I would periodically show up looking like a cleric, and he had a tendency to be rather loud and just as angry, which puts me off my tofu.  Well, he’s mellowed and I’ve started speaking, and we found out that we have a metric fuck-tonne in common in the basic principles on which we structure our lives. (more…)

So, we were discussing this at our sermon group this morning.  On the one hand you have Jesus saying that The Most Important Thing Ever (the Summary of the Law, it is called in some circles) is A) Love God with everything in you and B) Love your Neighbor as Yourself.  All of his ministry and most of his teachings that are told of in the four canonical gospels support this and the ones that don’t are suspected by many biblical scholars to be later additions and edits by his well-meaning but utterly clueless and totally unhelpful students.  Okay.  Nifty.  Very clear.  Love-Love-Love.  It’s a reeeeally easy doctrine to remember.  Less easy to live out, but not a whole lot of memorization required.

But you know, all throughout the four canonical gospels, over and over again, his students ranged from Not Getting It to Seriously Misunderstanding with exceptionally brief intervals of seemingly divine epiphany in which they Sort Of Understood, A Little.  Pentecost notwithstanding, I don’t think much changed with their understanding of his message after the Roman Empire executed him.  What makes me say this? (more…)

Photo by Jean Carneiro at http://www.sxc.hu/profile/jpaulocv

You are the beloved.

Soundtrack: ‘She Sells Sanctuary’ by The Cult. “When the world drags me down, she sells sanctuary…”

Because she’s cooler than shit, she starts the meeting out with the following reflection: We tell other people all the time that God loves them, that they are the Beloved (see first creation story, any accounting of the baptism of Jesus, etc), but how often to we spend quality time meditating on that fact as applied to us?  And then we spent five minutes in meditative silence.  And instantly the tone is set for our sometimes negative, sometimes fractious group: start from a foundation of love, and be honest about where we are in relation to it.  And we turned to the person next to us and discussed it.  And we opened up to the larger group some of our experiences, and believe you me, we were all over the board with it.

For some of us this was the most fundamental part of who we are.  In the voice of a mother, or father, or spouse there is that constant reassurance: You are so incredibly loved.  You are lovable.  You are wholly good.  These other things?  These failings?  This brokenness?  All of that is stuff that can be forgiven, or is already.  But at your essence, you are Perfectly Beloved.

And for others of us… yeah, not so much.  Perhaps you’d think a room full of Clergy who regularly preach the Love of God and who regularly sit with the dying and assure the Love of God and who regularly baptize newborns and proclaim the Love of God would have a better handle on it in their own lives.  Well, you’d be wrong about that.  ::stepping down off the pedestal, on behalf of all her brother and sister clergy::   (more…)

Service.  Not as in ‘church service’.  More like as in ‘servant’.  I’ll not be washing anyone’s feet tonight.  I’ll not be stripping the altar of a church, though I’ll be stripping my own small personal altar in my bedroom.  Earlier today I renewed my ordination vows along with my colleagues.  But what I will be doing this evening, from roughly four in the afternoon (about an hour from now) until nearly nine in the evening, I’ll cook for my twelve housemates.  Not all of them will show up for dinner, I know that in advance, but I cook for all twelve nonetheless, as I make up plates for those who are missing, and ensure some leftovers for those who are not fasting tomorrow (that would be everyone but myself–this is not a religiously based cooperative living outfit I’m a part of).

And so, as I realized my faux pas during communion earlier today (oops, I signed up to cook on Maundy Thursday), I thought, ‘yeah, this is kinda like footwashing.’

And here’s why.  I live in a commune.  We do things for each other because we recognize that our common lives are inextricably linked.  One of the things we do for each other is cook dinner.  Six meals a week are cooked by someone in the house and we are on roughly a two week schedule.  So, yes, I only have to cook dinner once a fortnight.  That’s the exciting part.  And nearly every day I can come home from work just in time for the dinner gong to ring at seven in the evening, and I can sit down with a group of wonderful people and eat tasty, nutritious, filling food that was made from scratch from mostly locally produced organic ingredients.  There is no bad, here.  And then when ever it is we are done, we wash our individual dishes and leave.

That was the part that stymied me when I first was introduced to the House.  The cook doesn’t want help cleaning up, and when it’s your turn, you’re not going to get help cleaning up unless you specifically ask for it, and then it’s more like asking a favor.  Why?  Well, partly it’s tradition.  And partly, it’s the service we perform for our friends and guests as a part of honoring our common life together.  No one is too good to cook, and no one can get out of it by performing other, say administrative chores.

A little like washing the feet of your guests and friends.

It was pointed out to me by one of my CREDO-mates that an issue-by-issue sort of thing for the Monday Morning Exegete might go well.  You know, for people who really like it, but won’t use it every single week.  All you periodic preachers out there are thusly served: The Exegete can now be ordered/delivered on a periodic basis.  So, come and get your exegesis, hot off the presses.  Let me know which weeks you want, and at the end of the month you’ll get an invoice for only the ones you’ve requested.  If you’ve got my email address, of course you can simply shoot me a request for whichever dates you need.  Alternately, you can check out this nifty page with the even niftier form and fill it out as often as you need to.

Et voila!  Exegesis when  you need it, and not when you don’t.

It’s On My Card: Dresser of Sycamore Trees

Me and my man, Amos, we’re two peas in a pod.  He was a god-fearing man, born in a time of corrupt religion.  In his day, religion wasn’t just the place you and the members of your family went to worship and get atonement for all the ways in which you were crappy to yourself and others.  I mean, it was one purpose that religion did in fact serve in his day, but in the big picture, religion had a very different role that was as much if not more important.  It was religion’s job to be a check on the corrupting influence that power has on people, most particularly in politics, most particularly in the king’s court.  You see, every king had a prophet, or a school of prophets that when not corrupt themselves, had the delightful effect of moderating the king’s rule.  When any king started lording it around, levying oppressive taxes, passing laws that benefited his wealthy associates at the expense of the scads of people living it poverty, it was the prophet’s job to tell him ‘God says knock that shit off, right now.  The God you worship doesn’t stand for this kind of tomfuckery, and you bloody well know it.  Also, your people are starving, jackass.’

As you might imagine, genuine prophets were frequently killed. (more…)

This week’s prayer (the collect for proper 10), distilled says:

God, give us knowledge & understanding of what we’re supposed to do, and give us grace & power to do it. Amen.

According to the Abridged & Practical Diction of Sare Liz, Knowledge def.: practical know-how. Understanding def.: the deeper wisdom of why. Power def.: the ability to make possible things happen. Grace def.: the divine ability to make impossible things happen; from the Catechism: ‘Grace is God’s favor towards us, unearned and undeserved; by grace God forgives our sins, enlightens our minds, stirs our hearts, and strengthens our wills.’

So, let’s talk, then, about Christian Courage, or if you will, the Christian courage of martyrdom.  It’s a cause & effect chain reaction.  Because I (if I use myself as an example) understand deep in my bones that I am loved, holy, and safe, I can step out in courage and hope, having hog-tied my fears just the moment before, to say challenging words of compassion and love to a world that embraces violence and rage, fully knowing that the world’s gut instinct will be to kill me, and if not to kill me, then to disgrace and impoverish me, consigning me to the margins of poverty and shame, but that I no longer care – not a whit.  And if I, using myself as an example, speak love and compassion to a violent and rageful world, it does not matter if I fail or succeed by anyone’s measure, even my own, because I already know that I am loved, holy, and safe.  This thing I do is in response to that understanding – it is in no way an action meant to earn such a blessing that might, in the event of failure in someone, anyone’s eyes, fail to earn the blessing.  The blessing (being loved, holy, and safe) is unearned and precedes all.  Failure to understand that cause and effect relationship is a failure to understand the good news of Christ, the gospel of Christianity, the deepest and most prevalent point of this global religion, and indeed, the joy of God.

Maybe.  I could be wrong.

But even if I am, God, give me the knowledge and understanding of what I’m supposed to be doing, and give me the power and grace to actually do it, because I suspect that just because the world needs to hear it, doesn’t mean large swaths of the world are going to love it.  Or maybe they will.  But give me strength, if they love it or if they hate it, to bear up under the scrutiny.  Amen.

So, I was talking with two out of the four other members of my CREDO small group today, and it dawned on me that a lot of the questions that my dear friend Cristopher was posing were the best sort of questions: loving, hard, no-nonsense and very, very real.  And when I asked him, “Cristopher, what are you thinking about all of this?” I knew what I was asking.  I was asking the man who does not like to be pigeon holed into boxes like ‘conservative christian’ or ‘liberal theologian’ but who can fly under just about anybody’s radar and bridge into everybody’s camp, I was asking him what he thought of the discussion that Jennifer had been so vocally supportive during our Skype conference call, and in which he had been largely (entirely?) silent.

The conversation… well, yes.  You’d want to know that, of course.  It’s the whole, ‘I’m a priest, and I write erotica,’ conversation, which was the first time they’d heard it.  Hilary hasn’t at all yet (poor Hilary – we’ll catch you up soon), and Greg’s already read some of the Magnum Opus that is The Day The Earth Stood Still, in which I, after the fashion of every fanfic writer in twidom, right the wrongs of Ms. Stephenie Meyer.  But anyway.  So, I suppose you could say that I came out to another group of clergy colleagues.  And you know, I’m a priest and I want to publish a whole host of things;  Theology, Liturgical Studies, Romance, Biographies, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Children’s books, and yes, Erotica.  But you know, it looks like the erotica is going to get published first.  Maybe.  Possibly.  Who knows, really, but it’s likely.  And then comes the question of integrity: do I use a pen name, or do I publish under my own name?  Do I tell the publishing house that I am, in fact, an ordained priest in the Episcopal Church, canonically resident in the Diocese of Western New York?  My integrity is really clear about what I need to do.  The only question is, am I couragous enough to do it?

And yes, all seven or eight thousand people who have read/are reading The Day The Earth Stood Still are all very aware that I’m a priest, and many of them have written to me and given me more feedback, better feedback, feedback that reflects a deep touch on their life, feedback that reflects a changing perspective on the world that I helped to shape… than I get on my sermons.  It’s clear to me that I already have touched way more lives in a positive manner through this one story than through five years of ordained ministry in the Diocese of Western New York.  And the people whose lives I’m touching?  I don’t have statistics, but I know from the little feedback I’ve gotten (perhaps 8k people have read the story, perhaps more, but on 35+ chapters I’ve only 3500 reviews, so that’s actually a rather small portion we’re dealing with… but I love it – make no mistake, I love it) …from the feedback I’ve gotten, I know that the lives I touch aren’t just people who go to church.  I get feedback from a lot of people who are totally unchurched, church alums, or who bear the scars of their touches with Christianity.  I get to deeply touch the lives of the very people that my church wants to evangelize, at least in theory and on paper.  If we (the Episcopal Church) really wanted to do it, one imagines we would be, all of us, en masse.  Since that isn’t happening en masse, I can only imagine that we’re lying to ourselves… but that is another blogpost for another day.

So, this is the first in my Theology of Erotica series.  Some of you may hear things you’ve heard before.  Really, I’m just trying to engage with these questions in a way that seems to have integrity for me, which also means doing it in the public/semi-public sphere of my blog where all y’all get to weigh in, give your opinion, and ask more questions if you feel so moved.   And today I will be discussing… “Why Erotica?” (more…)

As the Nickel City BYOB Theology is ramping up to tackle issues of God & Sex over beer for the second time in a row (last months discussion was quite popular, apparently), and as I’m going to miss the conversation for a second time for the same exact reason (I’ll be marrying people in the District of Columbia, again) I decided that I needed to talk about this with as many people as I could manage.

I mean, who doesn’t want to talk about sex?

Okay. Bad question.  Many people, apparently, don’t want to talk about sex, but I’m not asking them.  I’m asking you, and I happen to know that most of you out there that manage to find your way to my blog have no problem enjoying at least certain aspects of sex.  I know you like to read lemons.  I’m guessing you enjoy sex, either with a partner, a toy, or your hand – or all three.  But you also know, or you have blithely skipped over the knowledge, that I’m a priest, which means I am a de facto expert in God.  Now, this too is debatable.  Priests and ministers debate it all the time, and we can debate all we want, but the truth is that the rest of the world, with good intentions and bad, understands this to be at least moderately true, so I’m just going to go ahead and own it, and try to be down to earth about it.  It’s an imperfect system, but that’s where I’m going.

We’ll say I have a deep love for God.  Lots of people do.  Some take it up as a profession, for others its a favorite hobby.  Also, I have a deep love for sex.  So, let’s talk.

(more…)

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