Final Lent Post/Easter 2011/Thank you!

Resurrection is upon us.

I want to say that for myself, these last forty days, if nothing else, have shown me why resurrection is necessary, and it is worth asking ourselves why that is the case. I do not mean to be blasphemous heretic, but why wouldn’t the crucifixion have been an appropriate finale?  Why wouldn’t it have been a suitable ending for Jesus to have died on that cross, and the disciples been motivated by that event alone to go out and spread his message in spite of and because of the forces that killed him. After all, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church,” and what greater martyr is there than Jesus of Nazareth (Tertullian)?

Many things have been discussed in this space, from events in Haiti, to food justice, to experiences of fasting in the name of a holy lie, to the sin that pervades our spiritual and material lives, and if we have been honest with ourselves, we have seen during Lent that the world is in need of a love that transcends all things including our own capacities. And thus, in order that we may know that God holds these things in His/Her concern, we must be shown that the sin that crucified Jesus is not the end of the story. If that were the case, we would have no assurance that our efforts, prayers, and hopes would ever amount to anything. They would instead be pebbles thrown into a never ending chasm, sandbags stacked for a flood too big, an empty and fruitless failure.

The unfathomable resurrection, that takes our rational minds to places that it refuses to go, is a sign that sin can be, and is subordinate before the hand of God.  Resurrection is basically God’s way of saying, “Look, there is no greater indicator of the power of sin than death, and I am going to show you that in Me, even death will not win.”

I celebrate the resurrection because it gives me the strength to believe that my own and the world’s resurrection are possible.  That the efforts we make to change ourselves and the things around us are not for naught, but God willing, will be part of that resurrection as well.

Jesus is alive! He has risen! Nothing in this world can ever conqueror the love of a God who always has the final word.

Amen!

*Thank you to every who has read and contributed to this blog.  It has been an extremely rewarding journey for me and I have been touched by the vulnerability and time people have put into writing in this space.  I hope that those who have read one, two, or all the posts here have received something by the grace of God.

-Tim

The Final Day of Lent: April 23, 2011 Pt. 1

11 But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look^* into the tomb; ¹²and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. ¹³They said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ She said to them, ‘They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.’ ¹⁴When she had said this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. ¹⁵Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ ¹⁶Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew,^* ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher). ¹⁷Jesus said to her, ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” ’ ¹⁸Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord’; and she told them that he had said these things to her. – John 20: 11-18

…

Lent Devotional for April 22, 2011

33 When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land* until three in the afternoon. 34At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’* 35When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, ‘Listen, he is calling for Elijah.’ 36And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, ‘Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.’ 37Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.
Mark 15:33-37 (NRSV)

It is more or less impossible for us to think about Good Friday without thinking of Easter. They are like Christmas Eve and Christmas in that one inherently implies the other in every sense possible. And yet when we participate in this day of remembrance, we, or at least I, try to do so with a sense of detachment from the resurrection. Without attempting this, how does one mourn for that which will be overturned? It would be like trying to feel sadness over a sports team losing a game when you know they will win the championship a few games later. There is something oddly disingenuous about the whole thing.

But I think the crucifixion, the moment (in my personal theology) in which Christ allowed the sin of the world to act upon him with all its force, the moment when existence as a finite being was paradoxically embodied by one whose essence is infinite, the moment when sin won and humanities power to know itself fully in God was stripped from us, can be easily grasped by simply looking around. Just as resurrection is ever occurring, moment by moment as we overcome sin in the promise that it has been, can be, and will be done, crucifixion is simultaneously and continuously taking place. It is happening in the dark places of the world where people live in pain and suffering at the hands of oppressive rulers and systems. It is happening in the racism, homophobia, and xenophobia that persistently exists in even the most “progressive” of societies and people. It is happening in the suicides of teenagers who feel rejected and have lost hope. It is happening between the parent and the child who have only hardened bitterness towards one another, and live without reconciliation. It is happening in the destruction of our natural world for the benefit of a few. It is happening in the churches that preach hatred and breed apathy in the name of God. It is happening in the corruption of our political, financial, educational, medical, and judicial systems.

Crucifixion may not be the final word, but as we look at the cross where Jesus hung, we need only to also look at the world around us to know that its remnants are still here. It is a day of mourning for the death of our Lord, and for the sin that killed him, and for the sin that continues to kill today.

-Tim

Lent Devotional for April 21, 2011

A civilization of love
that did not demand justice of people
would not be a true civilization:
it would not delineate genuine human relations.
It is a caricature of love to try to cover over
with alms what is lacking in justice,
to patch over with an appearance of benevolence
when social justice is missing.
True love begins by demanding what is just
in the relations of those who love.

If there is not truth in love, there is hypocrisy. Often, fine words are said, handshakes given, perhaps even a kiss, but at bottom there is no truth.
A civilization where trust of one to another is lost, where
there is so much lying and no truth, has no foundation of love.
There can’t be love where there is falsehood.
Our environment lacks truth. And when the truth is spoken, it gives offense, and the voices that speak the truth are put to silence.

-Father Oscar Romero, on the Thursday before Easter, April 12, 1979

Lent Devotional for April 20, 2011

“Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God’s side, for God is always right”

- Abraham Lincoln

I’d be remiss to not have one devotional include Bob Dylan, but I promise this is not an attempt to force a square peg into a round hole.

This famous quote above by Abraham Lincoln highlights the perplexing nature of how we view the hand of God and its movement in our actions.  It has often been hard for me to reconcile the fact that I believe so whole heartedly that God is on MY side on a certain issue, the war in Iraq for example, while there are thousands, perhaps millions, of other Christians who believe the very opposite and have the hardest conviction of God’s blessing in their opinion.

The story of Judas should be prevalent on our minds this week, and in an interesting sermon I heard today, the question of Judas’ motives and the blame upon him was brought up.  He may be the easy villain of the story, but in Bob Dylan’s words:

Many dark hour
I’ve been thinkin’ about this
That Jesus Christ
Was betrayed by a kiss
But I can’t think for you
You’ll have to decide
Whether Judas Iscariot
Had God on his side. (from With God On Our Side by Bob Dylan)

The answers are never all that simple for us, unfortunately or perhaps fortunately.  Reflecting on God being on our side, or their side, or his side, or her side, is a necessary part of a reflection on the story of the crucifixion.  For the faces we see, yelling, cursing, betraying Christ are complicated indeed.  They are often us and the ones we love.  The ones so convinced that God is on their side.

-Tim

Lent Devotional for April 19, 2011

There are only a few days left to go on this Lenten journey.  There is so much going on this week that I feel there is little time for the closing days of Lent to be spent in retrospection.  Rather, the drama of the lowest low and the highest high that is Holy Week, perhaps serves as something of a launch pad.  Instead of looking back its time again to look forward.

But not yet.

My hope for all of us is that we take this week to really really be in it.  That is to be present, fully, in the darkness of the crucifixion and the light of the resurrection.  Personally, having celebrated Good Friday and Easter every year of my life, it is so so so easy for me to pass through this week with mindless robotic motion.  But I do not want that.  I feel a deep need this year to find my own resurrection, and thus have made it my goal to participate in these events with the sense of them truly happening, in the historical moment many many many years ago, but also fully happening in my own historical moment right now.  Maybe you do not have the exact same sentiment as I do, but I encourage you to think about what it would mean for you to put yourself  into these events with the totality of your being.  I think the value of Holy Week must be found that way, otherwise mindless robotic motion meets meaningless ritual.

²⁰Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy. ²¹When a woman is in labour, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. ²²So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. – John 16:20-22 (NRSV)

-Tim

Lent Devotional for April 18, 2011

When I was 18, I decided I would go on a 40-day fast during lent. No food, no caffeine, just water and light juices. It was not a rash decision; I spent several months researching the health risks, possible complications and long-term effects. My parents, as you might imagine, were not terribly keen on the idea, which only increased my excitement. The tradition of fasting among Christians, Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, and Hindus encouraged me to put my “faith” to the test. And it was a test. I wish I could say that I was motivated entirely by the noble desire to experience intimate communion with God, but I had actually constructed an elaborate barter out of my fasting plan.

I read, countless times, the beginning of the fourth chapter of Matthew, in which Jesus fasts for 40 days and is tempted by Satan. All the while I was hoping that my fast would likewise afford me the opportunity to give “Satan” the boot.

“Satan” was gay. Well “Satan” himself wasn’t gay, but the temptation I was trying to rid myself of was living out my “homosexual inclinations.” I thought that I could prove to God and “the gay” that even when I was at my weakest, I would not give in to (what I had been told my entire life was) heretical belief. At which point I expected God to relieve me of my desires. Or at least I thought I would finally realize that intimacy with God was sustenance enough and I could finally abandon any hope of reconciling my sexuality and Christian faith. I recognized that theologically, this rational was naive and unbiblical, but five years of earnest prayer and some pastoral counseling had not done the trick and I was becoming increasingly distressed.

And so I embarked on my fast. I was working three jobs at the time and had pre-arranged trips to spend time at a convent and to hike part of the Appalachian Trail. Truly, I was grateful to be so busy because I knew this would make avoiding food easier. And that did make it easier, but it also made finding and maintaining time alone difficult. Even when I was physically alone hiking, or in my room at the convent, my mind raced to keep busy. I avoided pure silence in meditation and instead read books about prayer. Looking back, I think I was scared to be alone with myself; scared that my mind would conclude without my permission that it was okay to be gay.

The actual “not eating” part was not quite as hard as I had imagined. The first week was tough, but after that I wasn’t really hungry. I was working as a youth pastor (or the 18 year old approximation of one) taking students on weekend retreats. The most difficult part was answering all of the questions about why I wasn’t eating, so I passed off meal preparation to other leaders and avoided communal breakfasts and dinners altogether.

While I did miss eating, what I missed more was sharing meals with people I cared about. I felt like I was missing out on a fundamental part of maintaining a community. I certainly found joy in my time alone mediating and praying, but God seemed tangibly absent. I had heard stories of people feeling intense unity with God during fasting so I was especially surprised and increasingly concerned at God’s disappearance.

My thoughts transitioned away from questions of sexuality to other things, namely the mundane, practical chores that fill most days. I probed God and my own mind for a definitive answer about homosexuality, but inconclusiveness boomeranged back to me. By day 25 I had become quite frustrated. The great temptation, Satan’s presentation of the world to Jesus on the mountain, had not occurred. God was gone, I had no answer, and I felt distant from my friends and family. Work was hard, money was tight, the usual.

And that’s how it ended- no climatic peak, no great realizations, nothing. I wondered how I could be certain of anything if I was not even certain about God’s perspective on homosexuality after completing this fast (I was admittedly riddled with heaps of teenage angst). If 40 days of not eating wouldn’t do it, then how would I know? Like, for sure, really, really know. About anything. Do you just have to wait for some external conclusion about life and love to inform you at random? Could you not simply usher it in yourself?

Clarity about my fast has only come years later, after introspection and retrospection, but I sort of think that was the whole point. Uncertainty; no longer about being gay- I currently live with my wonderful partner in Lakeview- is a fundamentally human burden. I once read that “no one gets out of space and time alive.” This is, in part, what I think it means to be human; to wrestle with our own mortality, to wrestle with questions of faith and God and reality of the suffering world around us, often without resolution. And while fasting, during 40 days of questioning with no answers, I learned a little bit more about what it means for me to be human.

-Caelyn Randall

Lent Devotional for April 16, 2011

I’ve written thousands of posts, millions of words, about things. Usually things with electricity in them. Doing this for a living, on and off, for the better part of a decade, has greatly—perhaps fundamentally—changed how I perceive the world around me. I can no longer look at the material world as a collection of objects but instead see interfaces, histories, and materials.

To be soaked in materialism, to directly and indirectly champion it, has also brought guilt. I don’t know if I have a right to the vast quantities of materials and energy I consume in my daily life. Even if I thought I did, I know the planet cannot bear my lifestyle multiplied by 7 billion individuals. I believe this understanding is shared, if only subconsciously, by almost everyone in the Western world.

Every last trifle we touch and consume, right down to the paper on which this magazine is printed or the screen on which it’s displayed, is not only ephemeral but in a real sense irreplaceable. Every consumer good has a cost not borne out by its price but instead falsely bolstered by a vanishing resource economy. We squander millions of years’ worth of stored energy, stored life, from our planet to make not only things that are critical to our survival and comfort but also things that simply satisfy our innate primate desire to possess. It’s this guilt that we attempt to assuage with the hope that our consumerist culture is making life better—for ourselves, of course, but also in some lesser way for those who cannot afford to buy everything we purchase, consume, or own.

When that small appeasement is challenged even slightly, when that thin, taut cord that connects our consumption to the nameless millions who make our lifestyle possible snaps even for a moment, the gulf we find ourselves peering into—a yawning, endless future of emptiness on a squandered planet—becomes too much to bear.

When 17 people take their lives, I ask myself, did I in my desire hurt them? Even just a little?

And of course the answer, inevitable and immeasurable as the fluttering silence of our sun, is yes.

Just a little.

-Joel Johnson in Wired Magazine (2.28.11) on recent suicides at the Foxconn plant in China, makers of iPhone parts. http://www.wired.com/magazine/2011/02/ff_joelinchina/all/1

I highly highly recommend reading this entire article, but let us think about this little snippet here first.

The reality of life in the western world in the year 2011 is that there is basically no material possession we own that does not connect us to thousands of faceless individuals around the world.  From those who produce or mine for the raw materials that give us power and are used to build products, to the people on the assembly line putting them together, to the people who ship them, the government officials who inspect them, etc. etc. etc. it goes on and on.  And we all have heard, seen, read the stories about abuses, inhumane conditions, loss of limbs, loss of life, child labor, etc. etc. etc. (it goes on and on) that happen in the chain of events.  And yet we somehow go on as though responsibility is never on the consumer who drives the market.

I love my iPhone.  If I could marry my iPhone, I’d probably think about it for at least a minute.  And I know that no matter how hard Apple may try to make sure its products are made in a humane and environmentally conscious fashion, they can’t, and perhaps don’t care enough to stop them all.  Furthermore, the very definition of humane should not be left to the ones in power.  Is it humane to have someone work in a factory eight hours a day, doing monotonous work, only to go home to the dorm that the factory has built for them, rarely seeing their family, and then doing it again everyday?  Who has the power to answer such a question?

This article makes a serious point.  Do we hurt the countless others around the world with our material desires? We would all do well to think deeply about this question.

-Tim

Lent Devotional for April 15, 2011

A week from now is Good Friday. It is the day our Lord was crucified, and rather than gloss over the event in our knowledge of the Sunday that comes soon after, it is important for us to live in the moment of tragedy.  The moment where the God of all things allowed the forces of human existence to take over.  There is much more to say but today’s post is meant to issue a call.

On Good Friday, there will be a number of events that Urban Village will be conducting, culminating with a candle light vigil in Wicker Park (the literal Wicker Park).  Additionally, a group of Urban Villagers will be fasting both in solemn remembrance of the crucifixion and in solidarity with those who suffer from lack of food.  This fast can be done in many ways, such as fasting the whole day, fasting one meal, not eating meat, etc.  What is important is that we do this both with individual conviction and collective action.  After the Good Friday vigil a group will be going out to eat in order that we may break our fasts together.

For those of us who do not have a familiarity with the practice of fasting, there are a myriad of reasons for participating in this ancient spiritual practice, and I would like to highlight a few.

-In denying our natural tendencies we are forced to be remember something we would otherwise be prone to forget.

-The denial of self can be thought of as the highest form of love and sacrifice.  Fasting by no means is a necessary way of doing this, but it is an embodied effort that reminds us of this maxim.

-Biblically, fasting was used as a means to show the serious nature of repentance.

In doing this together, the hope is that our collective action will open up new ways of seeing things, orienting ourselves towards a God who allowed himself to be crucified on a cross, and being renewed in our conviction that our God is one whose heart is for the least among us. This fast is a way for us to draw together as a community, sharing in this experience, and opening ourselves up to the movement of the Spirit.  Therefore, I urge each reader of this blog to carefully consider joining us (with the understanding that there are always valid reason to refrain).

-Tim

Lent Devotional for April 14, 2011

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven – Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NRSV)

This past Sunday, Chris talked about there being a time for all things, including a time for silence and a time for gathering in community.

I am a big believer in seasons and the idea that life is in a state of  constant flux.  There are times that we feel great joy, that we struggle deeply, that we possess intimacy and love with another, and when we stare at the same person as if they were a stranger.  Life moves in cycles…and often there is little we can do about it.  “A time to be born and a time to die,” the author of Ecclesiastes tells us, but we have little control of such matters.  We wish for a certain season and are met with another.  As with natural seasons, just because March 20th is the official first day of spring doesn’t mean it won’t snow like winter.  If this is the reality of life, we are left with the task to recognize seasons and be patient in them.

Earlier this year, after our first Room at the Table meeting, I left with a great sense of excitement.  I was to be part of the advocacy arm of our initiative, and with a great team, we had great visions.  But one of the things we soon realized was that particular advocacy efforts aimed at legislative change were at the mercy of things outside our control.  If the local and national legislative bodies were not considering food related bills at the moment, there was little we could do.  The timing was just not right.  But this is not something to be discouraged about, for seasons will change.  They always do.  One day the opportunity will arise for us to take action and thus we are called to build up and be ready for that moment when the leaves change and the doors open.  In patience and prayer we live in the moment given to us, while holding onto the anticipation of a change we know will come some day.

Let us then take the season we are in right now, the time given to us, whether it be a time for weeping, or planting, or seeking, or a time to speak, and meet it with a recognition that will perhaps allow us to better see how God is moving.  After all, our efforts to dictate the seasons may be like chasing the wind, but there is comfort in the belief that God knows our hearts.  And what master does time have but God?

-Tim