A Tribute on International Women’s Day

The reflective thinker that I am is a product of my mother. A reader, a student, and a leader because she expected me to be those things… not that she told me so, but she lived those so core to her being that I could not help but follow in her footsteps. Thank you, Lynda Kukla.

I grew up with 3 sisters and no brothers. Which was a lot like having 4 moms. Because of their strong, talented, creative way of being in the world I never imagined they weren’t my equals (except when they were my betters). I grew up sharing a bathroom in such a way that I never expected to have warm water left for my shower, I was well acquainted with feminine products and can discuss their various functions as naturally as football and I have always put the toilet seat down. Our basement had a full sized balanced beam in it (when it wasn’t in our living room) and I played with dolls as much as with matchbox cars. I had very little sense of socialized gender roles. Thank you, Robin, Karen, and Sally

I had many great professors but the one who likely made the most difference in my life was my fourth-grade teacher who believed I had a depth of talent no-one else had seen and pushed me to find it. She encouraged me to skip two reading levels and forever altered the trajectory of my academic career. Thank you, Mrs. Mullholland.

I can still recall being in the 7th-grade concert choir which was about 30 people, 28 of whom were girls. I was too awkward a boy to do anything with that great ratio when it came to dating but it was fundamentally ok for me to love doing something that was apparently perceived as a “girl thing.” Thank you, Ms. Kennedy and fellow choral members.

The most random professionally altering encounter I ever had was when a classmate of my eldest sister (9 years older than me), now an English teacher at my high school where I had just started my freshman year, wrote me a note saying I should come to the informational meeting about Speech Team. I was an awkward introverted kid who had no business going to such a place but her individual effort on my behalf felt good so I did… and it has made all the difference in my life. Thank you, Miss Heck, (edit: correction from my sister actually – go figure, now Mrs. Martin).

The better two-thirds of me is my wife, for whom I am daily grateful. I would say more but it would take volumes. Thank you, Caroline.

My favorite supervisor ever (I have had many good ones – but the one most dear to my heart) was in chaplaincy and she is a feisty, resilient, wise, American Baptist, African-American, female clergywoman and Head of Chaplaincy in an inner-city southern hospital. I hear her voice in my head at least once a week. And if life had gone a different direction I would love to be working for her still this day. Thank you, Robin.

I have had several great pastor mentors but when I’m unsure how to be pastoral in a situation it is the Senior Associate Pastor from my first call whose voice and example I look to in order to be lead through the tangle I find myself in. I loved popping in her office to bounce ideas off of her or vent and receive care and guidance and make it through the day. Thank you, Carol.

I have worked on staff with 3 co-worker associate pastors and 2 associate pastors who have worked alongside me. They were all females. They all made me a better pastor. They all taught me lessons I didn’t want to learn. Thank you, Carol, Laurie, Katie, Joanna, and Katey.

I always wanted a daughter. I love my son and I’m grateful for him but I had a special desire to raise a daughter. I get to do it times three. And as I have been surrounded by awesome women my whole life it just makes sense that this would be so. They rock. Period. Thank you, Elizabeth, Meredith, and Danielle.

I could go on forever because it doesn’t stop there. Neighbors, friends, students, co-workers, church members… everywhere I look there are two or three women for every man, often more. That’s no joke. The world without women would not exist. And a world where women didn’t shape me would be sad indeed. I’m wearing red today because in a world that still struggles to value you – I love you and I’m grateful that you have shaped me at more than a fair cost to yourselves… because it’s what you do and its who you are. In the words of a friend, “I’m thankful you were born.”

#internationalwomensday

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Who do we leave behind?

Each week through Lent I will provide one or two devotional reflections to continue the thoughts of that week’s theme.  This week as the first part of our Hitchhiking with Jesus series we reflected on the Call to Discipleship as dropping nets (Matthew 5) and Jesus’ redefinition of who was his mother and brothers / his rejection by his hometown (Matthew 12:46-50 and 13:54-59) and consider the question, “Who do we leave behind?”

(If you missed the sermon and wish to watch it you can do so here.)

“What a relief it must have been when the stone was rolled across the entrance to the tomb, sealing everything shut so they could go back to being fishermen, which they knew how to do, rather than fishers of men, which they didn’t.” — Richard Russo, Empire Falls

(quote compliments of Jill Reardon who texted it to me after Sunday’s sermon)

I remember being asked once about discomfort, was it necessary to move outside of our comfort zones in the journey of discipleship. My answer?  Yes.  Of course, there is more I’d say than just yes.  Jesus rarely is reducible to simple answers.  Jesus relieves us of anxiety born of shame and guilt. Jesus forgives sin and builds up (sometimes literally lifts up) those who have been cast aside.  In this sense, Jesus brings comfort to those who lack it.

But Jesus also unsettles us.  Jesus breaks us out of routines that normalize injustice, he questions systems of power that dehumanize some on behalf of others and generally invites us to “pick up our cross” as a perpetuate journey in not becoming passive and comfortable to a status quo that is “less than” the Kingdom of God.

As we think of last week’s texts about Jesus leaving his family and his struggles to be a prophet in his hometown that could not get over him being “the carpenter’s son” we are confronted with our own need to name what we need to leave behind in our journey of discipleship.  If we are going to hitchhike with Jesus what fears, comforts, and habits keep us from being able to do that?

The answers may be hard, and the commitment to imagine life beyond those “ways” that have always worked for us is discomforting… but they also lead us to new life – because this is the way of the cross.  This is the way of sealed tombs that become empty.  This is the way of Jesus Christ.

We leave our self behind (both our own distorted self and the image of self the world has forced us to carry) to find our new self in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Who are you leaving behind?

An Overly Revealing Problematic Sharing Moment Because I Love You

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Note to email subscribers: you are getting this a second time. My apologies.  I deleted the initial post thinking I shouldn’t actually post it.  Then I triple-guessed myself and remembered that I swore a long time ago to live more transparently (despite my discomfort with it) and decided to repost it.
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First: I don’t like sharing articles like this (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/jesuscreed/2017/03/01/happens-pastor-people-leave-church). As a pastor, it feels passive-aggressive and a backward cry for help/attention.

Second: I’m sharing this because I almost wrote it earlier thinking, sometimes it’s okay to cry for help… or, more accurately, cry for understanding.

Third: What I would add is that I have started way too many conversations lately with:

“I’m running on empty…”

“I’m stressed out…”

“I’m tired…”

I’d like to just flip a switch with regards to that but this is not how physical/mental/emotional health works. And it’s not how you stop the world from dumping more on your plate either.

Fourth: I’m not wanting this to be an excuse.  And frankly, I don’t want attention as strange as that may sound given I’m publicly posting this.  I do want to keep finding appropriate space, support, and help to weather the storm to the other side.  (Fear not: I’m getting help… my hypocrisy knows some boundaries.) But more than that I want you to know that this isn’t about me.  This is about everyone.  Because this isn’t a pastor story – it’s a people living in community story.  It’s a family story.  It is EVERYONE’s story.

And with that said… my own thoughts to add to that article linked above (you will want to read it at some point, whatever point you choose, now/already/or after what follows but now is probably an appropriate time if you haven’t already):

I agree with everything this article says and more. I’d add that there is an even harder process to go through, people who leave for celebratory reasons weigh on a pastor, in fact sometimes even more. A new job, a new relationship, a life transition. All good reasons people leave and you are happy for them… but not happy for the loss of them as part of your community.  Like postpartum depression or an empty-nest syndrome.  A good thing can still cause grief.

It’s harder because the grief is selfish. But the grief is still real. The community of faith we foster is our family. It is, for many of us (not pastors alone), our first, second, and third place/home. And when things outside of our control stress it, tear it, or send part of it off on another journey (which is constantly happening) we carry an emotional toll for it.

When people in that place are stressed, torn, absent… we bear these stresses too.  Because for all our deficiencies, and for all our struggle to show it as much as we might wish to, pastors do what we do because we genuinely hope for a better life for the people around us.   We hope for a better life BECAUSE of the people around us.   And while we struggle sometimes with our own messiah complexes we still know we cannot do that – it doesn’t depend on us and imagining it does is harmful to everyone.  But you still try, our hearts are not rational.  And you yearn for well-being and wholeness, and you lament it when you are reminded again and again that it there are many roadblocks beyond our control.

So yes.  There are seasons of growth and seasons of splendor and seasons of stagnation and seasons of death.  It has always been so and it will always be.  And coping with that takes community and self-care.  And coping with that isn’t necessarily any easier for knowing it’s no-one’s fault.  I share this with a hope that we will all remember that we all carry such burdens… and it’s why we all need grace.  forgiveness.  mercy.  healing.  hope.

Now back to the part where sharing this as a pastor is complicated and probably shouldn’t be done.  Some of you are reading this feeling like it’s your fault I’m stressed – please don’t.  I’m grateful you have trusted me to be a part of your life.  Some of you MAY from some misplaced sense of care decide not to burden me with anything else.  (It’s what I would do, I have a lifelong fear of being a burden to people that I cannot shake.)  And I expressly forbid that line of reasoning!!! (Like you listen to me anyway…. *wink*) Burden me, just as I’m burdening you with all this right now.  Because we cannot carry burdens alone.  That’s why we are so invested in other’s lives. But also, seek understanding, empathy, and grace.  Not to me.  To everyone.  That is the reason I write things here.  Even self-revealing things like reaching my own finiteness and limits.  So, that I might learn from them how to see them in others.  So, that you might see in my story, your story… and your neighbor’s story.  And vice-versa.

Someday I will drop kids off at college.  I will watch them marry and leave.  I will watch tragedy strike them if I’m lucky enough to stay tragedy free myself.  These burdens will happen.  They are not a reason not to experience the joy.  They are not a reason not to fully invest in sharing and living our life together.  I welcome the grief because I love love… and the two go hand in hand.  And I love all the seasons because death is part of life, and rebirth and I’m a child of resurrection.  I just want you to know what season I’m in… and I want to know what season you’re in too… and that I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Though I wouldn’t mind a break right now.

love you! – andrew

My Benediction: A Genesis Story

I was just asked about the history of my benediction. And yes I’m amazed how many people talk to me about it being “my” benediction. And there was even a great moment once when the youth here on Youth Sunday made a point to all say the words of my benediction together in unison while barely containing their laughter. They were very proud of themselves (and we were pretty proud of them too because they rock).

Anyway… here it is. When I started my first ordained call the benediction was always paired with the preacher of the day. (A tradition I carry with me, the charge and benediction should flow from the sermon and the totality of our Word in worship.) I preached rarely and I could never remember the words to the “normal” benediction… I was always in my head saying “does grace go with God, or with Jesus? I’m pretty sure fellowship is the Holy Spirit but you got me on what order it all comes in…”

Basically, it just didn’t work for me.

So I harkened (that word needs to be used more* check down below for a further word study comment for those interested) back to words a pastor in my internship used to use regularly about being the object of the greatest love. Words that always resonated with me. So I took those words and used them and over the years have added some nuance that evolved into the benediction I use every single week woven into the charge as we go out in worship to the world.

“Go forth and (fill in the nugget of the focus and function of the sermon here) knowing that we do not go alone. But we go together, and God goes with us and before us. And you are the object of the greatest love that ever was, is, and every shall be, so go in peace. Amen.”

And that benediction – which came about because I couldn’t remember the one I was trying to use – has always surprised me in how profoundly people experience it. It has saved me from many a bad sermon as people regularly remark how much those ending words mean to them as they leave worship.

So here is what that all means for me.
They aren’t my words. It isn’t my benediction.

The are our good news that we bear out in the world, for our sake, for each other’s sake, and for the sake of all creation.

Know that you are loved my friends, and bear that love to one another.

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*a note about “harkened back”

I promised a neat side story of word etymology, my paraphrase of a comment from the Grammarist (http://grammarist.com/spelling/hark-harken-hearken/) so they get credit if it’s true and the fault if its wrong but really, with such a snappy name like that how could they be wrong (after all, if it’s on the internet it must be true….).

In usage “hark back”, “hearken”, and “harken back” all mean the same thing and can be used interchangeably though the first is the most common (that surprised me). The first is also the one with the good origin story. It was a hunting term. When the hunting dogs had lost the scent of the prey the hunting party would hark back (because the hounds are barking and moving back along the trail) until they picked up the old scent and could follow it forward again.

I love that. Going to use that in a sermon someday!

Piercing Illusions

I was reading something I wrote about ten years ago and came across this line: “lucky is the person whose illusions are pierced gently.”

Not sure I meant it to be so, but it reminds me now of the weird introduction (“Attunement”) to Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling in which there are four versions of the Abraham and Isaac story told that alter the story in ways (the eponymous author Johannes de Silentio here talking of a man who doesn’t understand Abraham, who cannot be understood) that would denude the story of its full faith-power. Each version is followed by a strange version of a mother weaning her child from the breast. The first such version, in which Abraham acts the villain to take the blame for God, the analogous breast feeding technique is:

“When the child is to be weaned, the mother blackens her breast. It would be hard to have the breast look inviting when the child must not have it. So the child believes that the breast has changed, but the mother—she is still the same, her gaze is tender and loving as ever. How fortunate the one who did not need more terrible means to wean the child!”

Now most everyone agrees it’s hard to impossible to know what to do with the attunements except perhaps that this is the point. It’s hard to attune to that which cannot be understood. But every once in a while I think there is more there… like I can see through the veil for a moment.

Today, thinking on that which I wrote 10 years ago and F&T, I wonder at hard won learnings. Illusions we didn’t want to let go. Or life transforming things we learned but after far too much pain. I can sense the whistfulness of Abraham… “wouldn’t it be nice if this wasn’t all necessary….” and yet Kierkegard makes clear the danger of imagining we can all skip the hard journey and start where other left off. Thanks Abraham for journeying to Mount Moriah for me, glad I can skip that part.

Only we cannot. Not usually.

Lucky if you can I guess.

We cling tight to the breast. It’s hard to give up the reality we have constructed for ourself or had constructed for us. The journey to pierce that veil, to put that world to death? It takes inner strength, a fair bit of foolishness, and good company.

I hope each of you has a couple good friends, traveling partners, who pierce your illusions gently for you. They will make all the difference.

Irresponsible Narcissism

I had a conversation the other day that got me going on a something of a soap box issue for me and it revolves around responsibility.  But in that conversation it got more complicated than simply being about responsible versus irresponsible people.  The problem really comes about with two interrelated and opposing sets of attributes.  Responsibility and narcissism.  Because while I was replaying the conversation in my head I realized that for me one of the great problems in our society is people who are simultaneously narcissists and irresponsible. I think this thought goes all the way back to a conversation years ago where a friend noted a psychologist’s opinion that teaching people that they are important in solving the problems of the world trains people to be narcissists because they get caught up in their own importance.  I can see that… and yet I’m a HUGE fan of talking about responsibility, belonging, and ownership.  Its easy to go into consultant mode where you can tell other people what problems they need to solve, or even how YOU think THEY should solve them.  But its largely unhelpful.  For me its all in the sense of belonging and ownership that recognizes we are all need to be the people responsible for solving, and not just pointing out, problems.

Thus the intersection of a people who on an x-y axis of responsibility and narcissism.

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The x axis for me is a pendulum between ownership/responsibility and laissez-faire voyeurism.  The terms may be problematic but the sense is that on one side people feel that life is a shared experiment and we all bear a responsibility to one another and being the solutions to each other’s problems.  And the other side has a hands off approach where we stay out of each other’s way.  We watch, we don’t meddle.

And the y-axis is about narcissism and altruism. Again the terms may be extreme but the pendulum is about one’s sense of their own importance from the one who is self-obsessed to the one who is so other-oriented as to negate a sense of self.

Why does this matter?  Because I am not convinced its helpful to only talk about someone as being a narcissist.  I think most good leaders have a level of narcissism in them.  Let me, for example use the Apostle Paul.  I give him a lot of grief.  Paul seems to me to always be saying how humble he is… that he is in fact the most excellently humble guy you could find… the most humblest human of them all.  He does humility better than anyone.  And I usually laugh about that… because humility is one of those traits you can’t claim to have, and as soon as you do… you don’t.  But Paul is on to something in a way VERY FEW leaders in the history of the world have talked about.  We need examples.  People need to see leaders living life in order to follow them and their example.  And that’s tough when you are trying to lead people in a way centered in humility and service.  Because the leader needs to think ENOUGH about themselves to see themselves as a laudable example and put themselves out there.  AND they need to be oriented towards serving other people and not themselves.  They need to be self-important servants?  Maybe not that extreme… but maybe also not not-that either.  I’m not sure how far I am willing to run with this but I think my working theory is that I’m actually okay with someone creeping up fairly high on the Y-axis toward narcissism….  And I’m actually okay with a pedagogy and social structure that results in people going somewhat high on that Y-axis… if it keeps them on the side where they are responsible owners of the problems in our shared world.  I’d rather we all were a little too impressed with ourselves but had a strong sense of inter-relatedness and shared struggle, than a world were aren’t so impressed without ourselves and our authority… but don’t really care to change anything either.

Maybe there is a perfect solution to cultivate a society of belonging altruists… but in the mean time I’d settle for us all thinking a little too much for ourselves… and making the world a better place for each other.

So what do you think?  How do we use our language clearly to note that narcissism alone isn’t the problem?  Is there a way to impress upon each other responsibility and importance… without being narcissists?  And how much of that is ok… if it leads us in the right direction?

And then for fun… where are you hanging out on the scale?  Are you happy with where you’d place yourself?

Kukla Christmas Letter 2016

Dear Friends and Family,

Last week I preached about the four women listed in The Gospel of Matthew’s lineage of Jesus.  I called them badass women.  Because they were, they had the deck stacked against them and didn’t let that hold them back.  With equal parts faith, tenacity, and a what-do-I-have-to-lose-life-has-to-be-stronger-than-death-because-I-do-not-like-the-alternative desperation Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and the wife of Uriah wrestled out hope and continued a line we attest to as messianic.  A pretend prostitute and real one.  Grieving widows…. Refugees that are our mortal enemies… pawns in political games of abusive power.  These are the women who birthed the legacy that would become Jesus.

Now I’m not supposed to be re-preaching my sermon… this was supposed to be a feel-good family Christmas letter.  So, where am I going with this?  Well I started to think that my hope for my children is that each of them has this kind of tenacious spirit.  I hope I nurture a lot of badass women!

Warren is my Rahab.  He will be quick to tell you he is the only boy.  He has also had an interesting year of being consistently mistaken as a girl.  His long hair, and his mother’s good looks I guess.  He is a phenomenal older brother (Rahab too was a caretaker of her family) with a strong protective instinct to his sisters – he cuddled E the other day when she got scarred during a movie we were watching.  (This instinct is strong in him as long as he gets to annoy them to no end…)  He also gets really annoyed when he gets called a girl – and I think he gets extra joy on the soccer field when he dumps a player on the ground (somehow my loving and very sensitive son is quite the physical beast on the field).  My hope is that he sees being called a girl as something that is just fine: because he is born in the stripe of badass women.  His honors math teacher, in a conference about some of his academic struggles, describes Warren as all force and no vector (guess we know why he is a math teacher).  I used to say something similar.  The day he develops long obedience in the same direction he will change the world.  My frustratingly wonderful son is gritty and talented guy waiting to find his purpose.  And when that happens?  Walls will sure go a tumbling down (can’t help it with the Biblical references, vocational hazard).

Elizabeth is my Ruth.  She is steady, a homemaker, and has a creative flair that tells you she will always find an unexpected way to bring hope into the world.  She isn’t so much badass in the way that word normally inspires visions of brute strength or hard-edged attitude.  She is that one you never see working and helping and imagining and somehow has done all the work to make it happen.  She is up making breakfast with me every morning.  She has an insightful view of the world.  And she loves to create.  She is probably the one I worry about the most, because I don’t want that bright light in her be extinguished.  But she is resourceful that one, and she doesn’t need me or anyone else to protect her.  She’s badass – just with matching clothes, a spatula, and the latest musical play she has written.  Sword-wielding folk are easy to deal with… it’s the poets you have to watch out for – and this poet ready.

Meredith is Tamar to the T.  You do not worry about Meredith… you worry about the people in her way.  (That includes Caroline and me).  She will likely cause us more grey hair than the other three combined.  I collect more mere-mere (that’s her nickname) stories than all the rest.  My favorite was the day at Arches National Park when I lost track of her at one of the massive arches.  I found her because I noticed a large group of people pointing way up on the rocks… they weren’t watching wild animals.  They were all watching Mere climb a sheer cliff.  She looked like a little dot.  I wanted to run up there and get her but knew that I couldn’t.  I already can’t go the places she can with graceful ease.  I simply called out to her that it was time to come down and she scampered (literally) down to us.  Mere is the one kid who hasn’t chosen to do any sports or outside activities and we let her – its her life not ours.  But the day the need arises, there is no doubt in my mind that she is the strongest of us: and she will move heaven and earth to get them out of her way.  Like I said… Tamar.

Danielle gets the wife of Uriah because that’s the structure I chose and I have to play the game now.  It is fitting in a way because we don’t know much of Bathsheba’s story.  Her story is more of what happens to her than anything else and Danielle is still young enough to be an open book whose story is barely started.  But one other similarity strikes me.  They both were people you wanted in your life.  Danielle’s gift is her ability to light up a room.  She is the most joyous and smiley kid I have ever met.  Even her temper tantrums are joyful and cause a giggle.  She walks in her world with an air of magic that adds sparkles to everything.  And the hope for me as her parent is that her magical joy is something I do not fall prey to thinking can be harnessed and held close – but is a gift to be left free and shared.

Those are my badass “women” whose stories are yet to be written but who have, each in their own way, entered more fully into this year through sporting field, classroom, play, and family fights.  Recently someone asked me if with all that is happening in our world and in our country if I am scared for my children.  That’s an easy one for me – and no jesting – I don’t fear for them at all.  I do fear for anyone who tries to hold them back or stand in their way.  The world is at once always horrible and wonderful.  Its not more so now than before.  As it has been said (bonus points if you know who and where) “There is nothing new under the sun.”  But I’m generally one who feels called to see the hopeful, the be open to the magical, and to aspire for the best.  Its not that there isn’t horrible stuff out there: there is plenty to fear and plenty to lament and plenty frustrate… but I refuse to allow that to color my world dim.  And if anyone teaches me that bitterness is not a name worth taking its those badass women of the Bible and the children of our world – for me, my children in particular.

So one more note, a tip of the hat and huge hug to the badass woman leader of the Kukla clan.  Caroline celebrated year ten at Allstate this year – cleaning up a mess of mixed up money which she does so well.  She kept us all in clean clothes and eating relatively balanced meals and she does all that with amazing ability.  This was a gritty year.   Our basement sewer break left the house under construction all summer, and a simultaneous lice outbreak left us emotionally exhausted.  I’m not sure we are really “back to normal” if such a thing even exists (it doesn’t).  Seriously at one point I wasn’t sure our marriage was going to survive lice.  But it did.  And it does.  Mostly because we are folks that call it like it is, don’t pretend it must be pretty, but keep hope as our fall back, go to move.  And in such a mode?  Most things can be either overcome, or traveled through.  I read this a couple weeks ago: “Its healthier to eat Twinkies together than broccoli alone.”  The science may be a bit sketchy but the point is well taken: travel together friends.

So as I wrap up this weird Christmas letter / sermon / I don’t know what this is, I will combine these two thoughts as my words to share and aim for in 2017.  For me and you both:

Be Badass with/for each other!

Stay thirsty (for righteousness) my friends.  Grace and Peace to you all this season.

The Kuklas

Thanksgiving as Life-Preserver

Over a month ago I was doing lots of work on Psalm 100 in preparation for a sermon series.  I came across this quotation from Walter Brueggemann,

…our world is at the edge of insanity and we with it.  Inhumaneness is developed as a scientific enterprise.  Greed is celebrated as economic advance.  Power runs unbridled to destructiveness.  In a world like this one, our psalm is an act of sanity, whereby we may be ‘reclothed in our rightful minds’ (compare Mark 5:15)… Life is no longer self-grounded without thanks but rooted in thanks.

I liked it at the time, but now I circle back to it because I think it is more essential than ever.  Its seems we are drowning in discontent and thanksgiving may just be the life preserver we all need.  I feel like our critical lenses are on overload.  It has become our only, or at the very least, our predominant mode of discourse with each other.  Our every engagement is begun in complaint, or critical disagreement, as if all we know how to do is tell some else what they are doing wrong, saying wrong, and thinking wrong.  It reminds me of myself in college.  I was overly convinced of my own brilliance.  Thousands of years of world history and I have now arrived to prove how Socrates, Kant, and John Stuart Mill (I was a philosophy major, sorry about that) had no idea what they were talking about because I can see all the holes in their arguments.  (I had issues.  I still do.)  I was in incredible need to move to a post-critical stage where I could find both the blessings and challenges of the thoughts of these brilliant people who came before me.  I was in serious need of humility, but also of gratitude, generosity of thought, and understanding of deeper motives and lived experience.

I’m a big advocate of lament, of critical reflection, and of counter-testimony. We need to be able to say no to things that are egregiously unjust and inappropriate. We need to be able to publicly express our discontent, and we need to hear corrective nuance to our world views.  But when we say no to everything our no becomes watered down to the point of meaninglessness.  And when our world is wired to complaint all we can see is that which is wrong.  Complaint is essential to health, but it doesn’t make a good bed to lie in forever.  And I find myself believing that now, more than ever, we need doxology and thanksgiving. In a world of frayed nerves, fearful hearts, overloaded complaint we are literally ruining our own lives with an inability to recognize good around us and within us.

So take up the life preserver of thanksgiving and take a break from complaint.  If not for longer, than at least for the rest of this week.  Do not look at things ask yourself: what is wrong here?  Look at things and see it through the eyes of wonder and joy: how am I enriched and thankful for this?

Having started with him, let me end with other wise words from Walter B:

The Book of Psalms ends with these sort of outrageous doxologies, but this (Psalm 148) is “Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps, fire, hail, snow, frost, stirring wind filling his command, mountains and all hills, fruit trees and cedars, wild animals and cattle, creeping things and flying birds, kings of the earth, princes and all rulers, young men and women, all old and young together.”

It’s an image of all creatures joining in doxology. And I love that, to think that sea monsters — I don’t know how sea monsters howl or how they express their faith, but it’s an early form of [sings] all creatures of our God and King. The whole world is coming in doxology and I just think it’s so wonderful.

I just read a book recently. I don’t know whether it’s right, but it says that Socrates said that all true speech ends in doxology to God. I hope he said that. If he didn’t, he should’ve (laughter).

 

 

 

Pando

About a year ago I got spinning down a rabbit trail on what was the oldest tree in the world.  As with all such superlatives (biggest, tallest, oldest, etc), there is something awe inspiring to me to think about a tree that was born about the same time humans were inventing written language.

But this whole superlative game of living organisms has a total game changer.  Move over Prometheus and Methuselah, it doesn’t matter how much we pin down your hypothetical your age Llangernyw Yew, because welcome in Pando.  The game changer of all game changers.

Because you see, Pando cheats.  Pando isn’t a tree.  He is a colony of tree.  (No plural there.)  Pando, meaning “I spread” and sometimes also known as Trembling Giant, is a male quaking aspen.  But he is also a clonal colony, a single root system that sends up thousands of shoots… and each one looks like its own tree.  But they are all one.  Prado can literally use the royal we.  And he encompasses 106 acres, is believed to be something like 80,000 years old, and is the world’s most massive organism.

And that is one more reminder to me that in an ever-changing world there is no greater chance of survival than going through life as a community.  ‘We are stronger together’ is not just a nice sounding slogan.  In fact, its right there in our own evolution.  Human beings individually aren’t all that much.  We are lacking a lot of good natural advantages for survival bar one: the ability to create, sustain, and grow together.

Whether its our institutions, churches, schools, businesses, families, or lives… the more connected we are to a larger collective story the more likely we are to weather the ups and downs, ins and outs, life and death all around us.

Shared roots; collective strength; collaborative endeavors.

I have a colleague who reminds me that every time we walk in a meeting we should be seeking to be the most collaborative people in the room.  I am reminded again and again that my mission ought to always be more important than me.  And yet… somehow we are constantly drawn away into attempts to be self-contained, ego-driven, rugged individualists who hate group projects. It romantic to imagine that I’m able to stand alone, and its freeing to go wherever the day takes us without any obligation to anyone or anything else.

Until you stumble.

Until disease strikes.

Until… life (and death) happens.

And then? It is, sadly, usually, too late. Roots take a long time to grow, and communities must be nurtured.  You cannot make withdraws from an account where you have made no deposits.*

So for all my own introverted and self-reliant tendencies… and for all the romance of being the rugged individualists, I will turn back to Pando and ask him question after question.  For he has much to teach us.  …of deep roots, interwoven life, and how eternity lies in community.

 


*I have the tendency to always want to qualify my statements.  So let me qualify this statement: You may be able to connect with a community who will help you when you falter even though you have never before been a part of it.  I certainly hope so, and endeavor to lead just such a community.  But that only works if enough people make, and sustain, such communities.  Its like herd-immunity.  It only works if enough people participate in it.  I fervently believe that individualism is an unsustainable way to live propped up on the good will of other people. A world that seeks ever increasing connection and mutual support is the best and brightest hope for your future, my future, our future.

Election Eve Thoughts

Last night I watched a Norwegian language film about the Norwegian Civil War in the early 13th century. Fought between the Baglers (Aristocray and clergy) and Birkebeiners (mostly peasants) for control of Norway behind what is thought to be two pretenders to the throne. They fought that battle with literal weapons in a convoluted set of twists and turns as they decided the fate of a kingdom in ways that’s hard to discern facts and fictions, myths and motives and meaning except that when decided it ushered in a golden age for Norway, the zenith of its political power on the world stage.

Today we fight a similar battle and while our weapons purport to be more civilized it isn’t always apparent that this is true. While I wish to relish that we no longer kill each other in actuality in a game of kings and queens, we still kill each other in our hearts and minds… and that is its own sickness unto death.

The battlefields may appear different but the battles are the same. Whatever tomorrow may bring let it not be another Antietam or Gettysburg or Appomattox. This is not war. And only when we recognize the sacred humanity of the one we contend with will democracy win. When we do it right even the losers win. And when we do it right we remember that no matter how heated our exchange of differing ideas of good may be, we are one, indivisible, and interwoven fabric of being. United we stand. Our election will not be a civil war.

And gracious in victory and defeat we will move forward together as one. This is my prayer for tomorrow. Not a particular victor. But that we all may resolve more fervently to know, and acknowledge, and grow through the inherent blessedness of one another.

Naive? Idealistic? Laughably out of touch?

Yes, yes, and no. I realize how hard that is to realize. But I will not settle for less. Because we deserve it. Our nation and those who dedicated their lives to forming (or endeavoring to form) a more perfect union deserves it. The future of our world deserves it. And I will not let cynicism win.

Love you all, praying for us all. #forwardasone

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If you live in the Boise, Idaho area tomorrow morning, Wednesday November 9th we will be holding a 30 minute prayer service for healing and unity following the election.  It will be interfaith and non-partison.  Our desire is to move forward as one regardless of the results.  You can find the Facebook event here: https://www.facebook.com/events/926710330766421/