A friend of mine told me a story this past week. He needed gas and he turned down a street that had a Shell station on one side and a BP station on the other. He immediately turned into the Shell station. He explained that he had been avoiding the BP stations close to his house in protest against the continued stream of oil polluting the Gulf of Mexico. When he turned into the station, he was thrilled to see a line 3-4 cars deep at each pump island of the Shell, while one lone car was filling up at the BP. He said, "I felt proud. We were all making a statement that we would rather wait in line than give BP our money."
In the twenty minutes it took for him to get gas, he claimed that only one car "defected" to the BP. He didn't even complain when he had to go inside to get his receipt, because the pump had run out of paper. "It was worth it," he said, "and I needed a Pepsi anyway."
He was feeling pretty good about himself and he pulled out into the road, ready to sneer in the general direction of the BP station. And then he saw her. A middle aged woman in a green vest was standing in the door way of the BP station. She was just standing there. He said to me, "Suddenly, I didn't feel like I'd done such a great thing."
For me, what is going on in the Gulf of Mexico is horrifying. I am sickened by the images of oil covered water birds and tar stained marsh lands. I am tired of hearing about "dispersants" which only serve to keep the oil off the surface of the water by pushing it down into the parts of the water column where animals live and breed. I am worried that my children will be adults before it is safe to eat anything out of those waters. Like my friend, I too, am ready for someone to be punished (via lighting bolt or boils preferably)for all this.
But whom shall we punish? A careless rig worker? A lazy inspector? An oil company that employs thousands of people who are just trying to live their lives, feed their families and have a chance to retire? Or should we punish a world with lots of cars and a voracious appetite for petroleum? On whom can we call down the fires of heaven without collateral damage? As my friend realized, even when we feel justified in our behavior, even when we know a wrong has been done, our judgement will probably negatively impact some innocent soul.
For me, this is the reality of Sin writ large. And this is why it is critical for disciples to remember that to walk with Jesus is to walk in the way of compassion.
The reality of Emmanuel, God with us, is that God dove into the muck of Sin we swim in, and saw that we were more messed up than we could even imagine. Jesus knew well how the tangled web of sin bound humanity. Jesus knew that we were much better at messing things up than being faithful. And he loved us anyway. Even when Jesus was angry, he felt compassion for people: the harried crowds, the woman at the well, the rich young man, lepers and tax collectors alike.
Compassion and mercy are tools with which our world will be saved. It is hard to remember that Jesus came to save, when all we want to do is condemn.
The problem with BP, is that it is easy to call down the fires of heaven on an abstract evil empire. It is much more difficult to condemn a gas station attendant standing alone in a door way.
What is happening to the Gulf of Mexico is horrifying and tragic: for the waters, for the wild life, and for all the people who will suffer because of it. But I believe that God is merciful, so I am praying for everything and everyone affected by this disaster. I have even pledged to pray for the president of BP(though I'm not quite convinced he doesn't really deserve a case of boils), because even he is God's child.
Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
The log and the speck
(David) said to Nathan, "As the Lord lives, the man who has done this deserves to die; he shall restore the lamb fourfold because he had no pity."
2 Samuel 11:5b-6
The Veggie Tales animated series has a great retelling of the story of David and Bathsheba called "King George and the Duckie." It is sharp and witty. King George has hundreds of beautiful rubber ducks, but he wants Jr's duck. And he will have Jr's duck, even if it means sending the kid to the front of the Great Pie War and leaving him there. The King's covetousness and greed is there for all the world to see. But like David, he can't see it. King George can only see his desire and his sense of entitlement. He sings "Don't ask me to explain; there will be pain, if you don't bring me back that duck!"
Reading the end of 2 Samuel, I am amazed at the power of King David's response to Nathan's parable. His anger is swift. His judgement sure: anyone who behaves so cruelly deserves to die! David sees so clearly the ugliness of Nathan's rich man, because it is so obvious. David's own sinfulness is just as obvious, but he cannot see it.
I think everyone (especially people of faith) has a blind spot like David's. It is so much easier to spot the flaws in others. Especially when they are so obvious! And while we are so busy noticing the faults of others, we persist in overlooking our own.
Jesus asks us: Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, 'Friend let me take out the speck in your eye,' when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye? Luke 6:41-42
The short answer: it is easier. It is easier to stand back with smug self-righteousness than to repent and work for reconciliation. It is much easier to judge another's sin than to come to grips with our own.
But David does it. He sees his fault. He recognizes that himself deserves the judgment he called down on another.
King George manages to do it as well. In his case, he was able to return the stolen duckie to its rightful owner and avoid some of David's unpleasantness.
What a great thing it would be if we were all more concerned with removing the logs from our own eyes. God knows we're not perfect or even close to it. What a great thing it would be, if we stopped telling ourselves that we(and we alone)were.
2 Samuel 11:5b-6
The Veggie Tales animated series has a great retelling of the story of David and Bathsheba called "King George and the Duckie." It is sharp and witty. King George has hundreds of beautiful rubber ducks, but he wants Jr's duck. And he will have Jr's duck, even if it means sending the kid to the front of the Great Pie War and leaving him there. The King's covetousness and greed is there for all the world to see. But like David, he can't see it. King George can only see his desire and his sense of entitlement. He sings "Don't ask me to explain; there will be pain, if you don't bring me back that duck!"
Reading the end of 2 Samuel, I am amazed at the power of King David's response to Nathan's parable. His anger is swift. His judgement sure: anyone who behaves so cruelly deserves to die! David sees so clearly the ugliness of Nathan's rich man, because it is so obvious. David's own sinfulness is just as obvious, but he cannot see it.
I think everyone (especially people of faith) has a blind spot like David's. It is so much easier to spot the flaws in others. Especially when they are so obvious! And while we are so busy noticing the faults of others, we persist in overlooking our own.
Jesus asks us: Why do you see the speck in your neighbor's eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, 'Friend let me take out the speck in your eye,' when you yourself do not see the log in your own eye? Luke 6:41-42
The short answer: it is easier. It is easier to stand back with smug self-righteousness than to repent and work for reconciliation. It is much easier to judge another's sin than to come to grips with our own.
But David does it. He sees his fault. He recognizes that himself deserves the judgment he called down on another.
King George manages to do it as well. In his case, he was able to return the stolen duckie to its rightful owner and avoid some of David's unpleasantness.
What a great thing it would be if we were all more concerned with removing the logs from our own eyes. God knows we're not perfect or even close to it. What a great thing it would be, if we stopped telling ourselves that we(and we alone)were.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
ma-wage, ma-wage, ma-wage is the weason....
Thirteen years ago, when we were planning our wedding, my husband and I used to quote the bishop's sermon from the Princess Bride to one another. It always made us laugh and our laughter kept whatever craziness was threatening to undo us, recede.
If anyone had told me, back in the day that I would get married and stay married for 13 years, I would have certainly laughed. If they had said I would actually like being married, I would have laughed even harder. I, like many of my peers, come from a "divorced" home. And the people I knew of who stayed married, didn't seem to like each other very much. Most seemed to be biding time, waiting for the "death do us part" ticket to freedom. I didn't see very many happy people in marriages. And since marriage didn't seem like a whole lot of fun, I had resigned myself to being a divorcee (provided I could actually find someone I was willing to marry).
My negativity about marriage makes the last 13 years of my life somewhat miraculous. Not that it hasn't had its difficulties: 4 children (Lord, help us), job changes, building a house, job loss.... We've experienced tons of stress and stress makes us crazy and crazy people say/do crazy things. But, at the end of the day, we always conclude that joining our lives together was a good thing overall.
I'm not sure what marriage means in our society any more. There are lots of discussions about defining it (placing limits on who gets to "do it"). Most arguments seem me to use "God" language to justify the state's institution (let's keep our country and economy strong, by marrying people off). Or maybe marriage is the last gasp that keeps the institutional church in business (at least some people still envision their dream wedding in a church).
Neither of those options bode well for the future of marriage. If marriage is all about the tax breaks and the insurance benefits,or who does what with their "parts," I think it will certainly go the way of the dinosaurs. On the other hand, I don't know if the church really knows what marriage means, either. Jesus talks about marriage being something that lasts, but then says there is no marriage in heaven. If the covenant only lasts for this life, then my salvation isn't dependant on this worldly bond. So why do it? If marriage has meaning, its meaning must be in and for this world.
In the eight year journey that took my partner and me from meeting to marrying, we navigated a lot of detours and road blocks. We were blown off course, drifted apart and somehow found each other again. When we finally decided to marry, we spent our wedding planning haggling over the service: the words, the vows, the symbols and what each meant. We argued about the meaning of sacraments and community and covenant and blessing. My priest said we could write our own vows, if we could improve on the theology of the Book of Common Prayer. And being two seminary trained people we were sure that we could.
In the end, we were married by my priest in his Baptist church and we changed only one vow. Instead of "forsaking all others," we said, "never allowing any earthly relationship or covenant to take precedence over this one." He borrowed a tux, I bought my gown from a vintage clothing store. We spent most of what little money we had on our matching wedding rings, the band and the dance floor.
Having been married and done a number of weddings, I'm still not sure what institution of marriage means. All I know is that 13 years ago, we publicly declared a covenant to our friends, family and community of faith. It was an act of faith. Today I still live that covenant. I wouldn't call it perfect; I wouldn't even call it "happy." But it is pretty damned good. And it continues to be an act of faith.
If I could do it over again, I would make one other "improvement" to the BCP service. After the "I will," I would add, "with God's help." Even though we love each other and work hard to stay connected, marriage is hard. It is surely God's grace that has bonded us so well. Our faith is that God is with us: in, with and under our covenant.
Grace is the glue that holds us together. As much as we get on each other's nerves (still), grace allows us to delight in each other, encourage one another, and make space were we can be our hapless, flawed, crazy selves. We give ourselves to each other, with God's help.
Maybe the meaning of marriage is only found in living it. Thirteen years from now things may be clearer.
Nowadays, if some prophet tells me that I'm going to be with my husband when I'm 90, I'll certainly laugh. I cannot even imaging 63 years of marriage (much less my husband at 95!) But these days, I believe it could be a fun time.
If anyone had told me, back in the day that I would get married and stay married for 13 years, I would have certainly laughed. If they had said I would actually like being married, I would have laughed even harder. I, like many of my peers, come from a "divorced" home. And the people I knew of who stayed married, didn't seem to like each other very much. Most seemed to be biding time, waiting for the "death do us part" ticket to freedom. I didn't see very many happy people in marriages. And since marriage didn't seem like a whole lot of fun, I had resigned myself to being a divorcee (provided I could actually find someone I was willing to marry).
My negativity about marriage makes the last 13 years of my life somewhat miraculous. Not that it hasn't had its difficulties: 4 children (Lord, help us), job changes, building a house, job loss.... We've experienced tons of stress and stress makes us crazy and crazy people say/do crazy things. But, at the end of the day, we always conclude that joining our lives together was a good thing overall.
I'm not sure what marriage means in our society any more. There are lots of discussions about defining it (placing limits on who gets to "do it"). Most arguments seem me to use "God" language to justify the state's institution (let's keep our country and economy strong, by marrying people off). Or maybe marriage is the last gasp that keeps the institutional church in business (at least some people still envision their dream wedding in a church).
Neither of those options bode well for the future of marriage. If marriage is all about the tax breaks and the insurance benefits,or who does what with their "parts," I think it will certainly go the way of the dinosaurs. On the other hand, I don't know if the church really knows what marriage means, either. Jesus talks about marriage being something that lasts, but then says there is no marriage in heaven. If the covenant only lasts for this life, then my salvation isn't dependant on this worldly bond. So why do it? If marriage has meaning, its meaning must be in and for this world.
In the eight year journey that took my partner and me from meeting to marrying, we navigated a lot of detours and road blocks. We were blown off course, drifted apart and somehow found each other again. When we finally decided to marry, we spent our wedding planning haggling over the service: the words, the vows, the symbols and what each meant. We argued about the meaning of sacraments and community and covenant and blessing. My priest said we could write our own vows, if we could improve on the theology of the Book of Common Prayer. And being two seminary trained people we were sure that we could.
In the end, we were married by my priest in his Baptist church and we changed only one vow. Instead of "forsaking all others," we said, "never allowing any earthly relationship or covenant to take precedence over this one." He borrowed a tux, I bought my gown from a vintage clothing store. We spent most of what little money we had on our matching wedding rings, the band and the dance floor.
Having been married and done a number of weddings, I'm still not sure what institution of marriage means. All I know is that 13 years ago, we publicly declared a covenant to our friends, family and community of faith. It was an act of faith. Today I still live that covenant. I wouldn't call it perfect; I wouldn't even call it "happy." But it is pretty damned good. And it continues to be an act of faith.
If I could do it over again, I would make one other "improvement" to the BCP service. After the "I will," I would add, "with God's help." Even though we love each other and work hard to stay connected, marriage is hard. It is surely God's grace that has bonded us so well. Our faith is that God is with us: in, with and under our covenant.
Grace is the glue that holds us together. As much as we get on each other's nerves (still), grace allows us to delight in each other, encourage one another, and make space were we can be our hapless, flawed, crazy selves. We give ourselves to each other, with God's help.
Maybe the meaning of marriage is only found in living it. Thirteen years from now things may be clearer.
Nowadays, if some prophet tells me that I'm going to be with my husband when I'm 90, I'll certainly laugh. I cannot even imaging 63 years of marriage (much less my husband at 95!) But these days, I believe it could be a fun time.
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