Radical Beliefs

Micah 6:7-8

Would GOD be impressed with thousands of rams,with buckets and barrels of olive oil?
Would [GOD] be moved if I sacrificed my firstborn child,my precious baby, to cancel my sin?

But [GOD]'s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what GOD is looking for in men and women.
It's quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love,
And don't take yourself too seriously--take God seriously.
(The Message)

I grew up in a staunch Republican home. I also grew up in a time when wives TENDED (I don't mean to generalize, here) to vote the path their husbands voted... at least, all the parents who provided role models to me... mom & dad, aunts & uncles, my friends folks. And generally, the kids I knew sided with their parents... so, I was a staunch Republican... and my favorite cousin was a staunch Democrat. It was during those formative years that developed (and maintain) a strict abhorrence of political discourse. Voicing opinions about political issues always induced argument. And I hated arguments... especially with those I love!

As I grew older, my political views became more and more my own. And by the time I left active duty in the US Army (I was a captain! - just had to brag, a little) I was confirmed in my conservativism.

But almost immediately, I was confronted with a new viewpoint... and that conservativism came under assault. Being the good little Catholic boy I was... and seeing as how I was feeling called to the priesthood... I got involved with my local church... and my pastor felt I would be an asset to the parish's Social Justice Committee.

Imagine, if you will, an arch-conservative, militaristic, and yes, arrogant Republican, joining the Social Justice Committee of a church located in (Gasp!) Berkeley, California! I was SO anathema! And I was on said committee with sociologists from UCB... And it was the height of the Nicaraguan conflicts and all the mess in El Salvador.

I was able to get my point across, and to do so in a positive and non-threatening way... I believe I enriched their perspectives... but I also began to feel the walls of my conservative reality trembling.

I can't, with confidence, point to all the various chips and cracks on that wall along the way, but sometime after 1994, those POLITICALLY conservative walls came tumbling down (there are of course, vestiges of those walls remaining...)

The RELIGIOUSLY conservative walls took a little longer to fall, but fall they have.

In fact, politically I feel the Democratic Party is a bit out-dated and far too conservative. And religiously, I don't really think there are many churches that "get it"... and I don't believe ANY denominations do. Though, some come closer than others.

For instance, I love my pastor deeply, and will follow her and her guidance because I believe she's "got it". But, on the whole, I don't really hold much stock in the position of Pastor... at least not as currently modeled in most churches... I really believe that we, as people of God, are the pastors, the leaders.

I also feel that the scriptural reference with which I started this blog entry today is a valid model for our churches activities, if not the true model.

By this, I mean that I believe worship is secondary to our church life. Social Action, Social Justice, Compassion, Fairness... these are the mission we as Christians need to be involved in. These are the actions that Jesus espoused.

Worship leads, if not tempered with copious quantities of Social Action, Social Justice, Compassion and Fairness, to religiosity. It wrongly focuses us on ourselves and doctrine, dogma and rules.

Yet, God calls us to focus on our sisters and brothers in need, in slavery, in subjugation to the basest of powers. Humility (not taking ourselves seriously but taking God seriously,) too, is a necessary ingredient.

Humble involvement in caring for God's children, God's CREATION, is the truest form of worship that I can conceive. I believe this to be true.

Guess I'm just a radical. So was Jesus. I hope I can be counted in that legacy.

If not for the courage of the faithful crew...

Somehow, I got thinking today about boats. Well, that's a bit overly broad. Specifically, I got to thinking about a particular boat, on a particular lake, with a particular cast of crewmen. More specifically, Matthew 14:22ff.

Not long ago, I read a book entitled, I think, "If you want to walk on the water, you have to get out of the boat". Long name, huh?

I was struck by this story, and what it says about people in general, not just the disciples.

There are 12 folks in what we suppose is a fishing boat. It's not a big boat. By all accounts, it likely not much more than a large row boat. These folks are far out from shore, probably in deep water, it's night time, so the shore isn't visible, perhaps not even lights from shore. The wind is blowing up ferociously, and the "tiny ship was tossed." (credits to Gilligan's Island).

I imagine most of the folks were getting sea sick, and were probably very frightened. All of a sudden, they see their teacher walking towards them on the surface of the water.

Peter, who will soon come to be known as the rock, has had enough of the waves and calls out "Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water."

And the teacher commanded "Come!"

So, in my mind, I see Peter bound out of the boat and start walking towards Jesus; then it hits him. "I can't do this! No one can walk on water!" He looks down, then he sinks like a stone. Only Jesus saves him, pulls him up and helps him into the boat.

For 2000 years, it seems like Peter comes out on the short end of the stick, here. All the homilies and sermons I have heard castigate Peter for taking his eyes off Jesus, for not having faith enough to walk to Jesus.

But there are 11 others, that's 92% of the crew, who were too scared to even try!

Let's look at it another way. This crew of 12 is in a boat at sea in a storm, the boat is tossed viciously in the wind and waves, in the middle of the night. One looks to Jesus, and says "Let me come to you." Ninety-two percent of the crew stays on the boat. They don't know what they may face. For all they know, the boat on which they are being tossed about may break up. Jesus is there, and only 8 percent have the presence of mind to seek him out.

What does that tell me? I'm thinking 100% of us face trials in our life that are too much for us, that have us afraid for our lives, and seem insurmountable. I'm thinking ninety-two percent of us don't ever bother looking to the one we believe we have faith in to rescue us... we don't seek out that one, we don't try to go to that one.

Ninety-two percent of us stay where we are, too frightened by the unknown to look... even to the less known... for help. We stay rooted in fear.

Eight percent of us do turn our eyes on the one and call out for help, wanting to go to that one. Notice Peter's request. It's not "Jesus, if that's you, come to us." He says "Command ME to come to YOU."

And even then, he's not perfect. He falters, even buoyed up by the one's command, he falters. Yet that one still reaches out and lifts him up.

In the end, that one also saves those who aren't calling, who fail to turn their eyes upon the one.

Says something interesting to me about people in general. And it says more to me about that compassionate One, One who works to save not only those who call for help... but those who don't.

A Blessed Weekend

I just realized that it has been nearly a week since I last wrote or posted to my blog. I wonder why that is.

It's been an eventful week.

First of all, my mom's surgery last Wednesday has come and gone, and proved to be quite anticlimactic. No tumor or cance was found. The surgery was brief, and mom was home by 3. I suspect my new-found hero, Marcus Borg, might disagree with me, but I believe that this lack of cancer was purely miraculous. It was there, now it's not.

I struggled through a boring Thursday and Friday, then Friday evening survived an attack by the killer house cat. Yes, you heard right. I have a major wound on my finger from where this killer chomped down... HARD. In his defense, it was a purely autonomic response caused by a seizure. He didn't mean to bite and cause me 48 hours of intense pain! He's forgiven... was forgiven the moment he released his bite. He never really NEEDED forgiveness!

Saturday, I spent the day preparing the ingredients for a rather large meal. And Sunday morning, I COOKED that rather large meal, feeding about 75 people breakfast... mostly homeless folk.

Now THAT was an experience. It was a GOOD experience. No, it was a GREAT experience. From the arrival at church at 7:15 a.m. until we left.

I had great assistants. Gary was there, and a newer member of our congregation, Michael. Karla got there soon after. And then James, one of the people we feed, showed up... and turned out to be great at cooking. Of course, Scott was there, too, working 5 times harder than I did.

We cooked 40 pounds of potatoes, 200 sausages, 12.5 dozen eggs, and 6 gallons of Orange Juice. And 3 pounds of onions.

But, really, the most awesome part was just to stand in the serving line and watch the reactions of 75 mostly homeless people, children and elderly alike. To plop 2 sausages on a plate and say "Goodmorning, sir (or ma'am)", and to see their smile, and hear their reply, "Thank you". To receive their applause and know that I made a difference that morning.

Is it wrong to say that? I'd have done it even if they didn't respond, but it seemed all that more special to know they appreciated it.

I guess it was that "Eric Camden" moment, needing, wanting to do something for someone else. And realizing that compassion is more than a feeling. It's an action compelled by gratitude.

But it was exhausting, too. I spent most of the remainder of Sunday passed out on the sofa, stirring only to do another load of laundry.

A new definition of a successful weekend to me: Feeling like, for once, I accomplished something of meaning.

It's a good feeilng.