Driving through Mount Kisco today, I saw a sign reading "Day Laborers Site" pointing to an area just out of sight. The sign included a logo for an organization called Neighbors Link. Of course, as I almost drove off the rode in shock, I had to google this organization to see what I could find. Sure enough. Neighbors Link was founded in 2000 "to meet the needs of 3,000 Latino immigrants who represent 26% of Mount Kisco's total population. When problems at many levels became apparent, concerned members of the community raised private funds to convert a masonry warehouse into a community center for low-income working people." Don't believe me? The website can be found at http://www.neighborslink.org/. See for yourself. And then you too can squeal with delight and perhaps nearly swerve off the road.
But, maybe I shouldn't be so surprised. Maybe the area surrounding my hometown cares more about the least of these than I ever imagined. Having preached about Matthew 20:1-16 in my hometown reflecting upon the situation of these day laborers only to be met by cold shoulders, I am surprised to see this kind of motivation. I'm delighted by this forward thinking but I must admit that I'm surprised.
Though these areas marked "Day Laborers Site" may be kept from our sight, the hope of the good news seems to be working right here in Mount Kisco. It seems that hope is indeed very much alive. Amen.
5.26.2006
5.24.2006
"I'm Living the American Dream!"
After becoming the next American Idol, Taylor Hicks screamed these words between verses while he sang. Is it the American Dream that Taylor is living? Or does the "American Dream" even exist anymore? Can these words be screamed from a stage flanked with celebrities and impressionible young people while immigrants struggle for their rights?
Perhaps the problem with this imbalance lies in the fact that more people voted for the American Idol than voters turned out to utilize their right to vote for their President. Or so they said on the air. If this is true... If this is the American Dream... I fear we have a lot to learn. I'm almost certain that this is not the American Dream.
Perhaps the problem with this imbalance lies in the fact that more people voted for the American Idol than voters turned out to utilize their right to vote for their President. Or so they said on the air. If this is true... If this is the American Dream... I fear we have a lot to learn. I'm almost certain that this is not the American Dream.
5.23.2006
Crazy Seminarians
When seminarians gather to celebrate, interesting things tend to happen. They might sip beers into the wee hours of the morning singing folk songs in languages that only half of them understand. Or they might create art with the materials at hand. Or they might do both. While our singing might not be performance worthy, our art surely is. Here is our creation. And I must admit that I forget the title. Something about four perspectives. But, it's been a crazy weekend. I'm allowed to forget.
one
two
three
yeah, claudio is part of the art, it seems.
four
How I will miss the craziness of seminarians. Sniff sniff.
one
two
three
yeah, claudio is part of the art, it seems.
four
How I will miss the craziness of seminarians. Sniff sniff.
5.19.2006
Goodbye to Union
In our Commencement Communion service this morning at Union Theological Seminary, I bid these ivory towers farewell with these words (loosely exegeted from Ephesians 6:18-24):
“Life is combat.” These are not my words. In fact, I know these words by Walter Wink were far from my mind when I first sat in Room 207 for orientation three years ago. I didn’t think that answering my call into God’s service had anything to do with combat. Sitting in Room 207, like so many of you, I was concerned about poverty, sexism, racism and homophobia. Like you, I came to Union to make our world better.
Life certainly wasn’t combat for me. And, thankfully, Walter Wink didn’t stop with this sentence. He continues, “ours is neither a perfect nor a perfectible world; it is a theater of perpetual conflict which the prize goes to the strong.” If life is the “theatre of perpetual conflict,” then I think we as graduates of Union Theological Seminary, do indeed have a fighting chance.
If our combat is theater, let’s set the stage and put on our costumes. On this end of Broadway, we like to get dressed up. If you don’t believe me, just ask Brian Cave. Whether singing Carmina Burana or swinging from the rafters at the Pub on Mardi Gras, we like to get dressed up.
Three years ago, I remember that I had very carefully chosen my costume for my debut in Room 207. It was the first time I had adorned the armor of God. And even though I carefully planned and selected my attire, I only remember that the shoes for my feet were flip-flops. Flip-flops have probably been my favorite choice for the shoes on my feet in these three years. Whether I was rolling out of bed for an 8 am Preaching and Worship class or dashing to noon chapel in order to earn my perfect attendance award, I was in flip-flops.
However, I don’t think that flip-flops are really a good choice for armor. In fact, I’m not sure that they are a good choice for the theater. During these three years, we have each played with our choice in costumes. Some of us may never have referred to our dressing up as the “wiles of the devil” as in this letter to the Ephesians. And even as we leave here, we might never want to say that.
But, these are wiles that we are very familiar with. These wiles have dominated our conversations in caucus meetings, classroom discussions or even in conversations in the shelter of the Sukkah in the wee hours of the morning after wine night. The wiles of empire. These wiles have gathered us together here. These wiles have inspired us to march down Madison Avenue protesting war under the Social Action banner. These wiles provoked Angela Escueta and I to terrify the incoming second years with a civil disobedience training in preparation for the Republican National Convention. While I clearly provided some leadership for the Social Action Caucus, we were each motivated by these wiles. So, what did you wear?
What did you wear when you first donned the armor of God? Did you read Scripture in chapel in a t-shirt that proclaimed “Value your Vagina. Vote.”? Or one that announced “Christian in Action”? What did you wear when you first struggled against the cosmic powers of this present darkness?
And what will you wear as you leave? What will your armor of truth, righteousness and peace look like?
As I go from here, I will wear this place as my armor. I will adorn the prophetic words of Delores Williams and James Cone. I will wear the loving embrace of Wyn Wright who reminded me again and again of why I continue with all of this. I will get all dolled up in the courage that Janet Walton continues to give me to believe in the power of art in our worship. I will show off the confidence that Barbara Lundblad gave me to preach. I will wrap myself in the Word that Hal Taussig challenged me to reclaim, even if Revelation is still a mystery to me. I will sail off wearing the quiet sarcasm and wisdom of Troy Messenger. I will I wrap myself in the self-care practice of 7th floor of Hastings sharing marathon upon marathon of Law and Order episodes. I will get decked out in the loving community of women who are proud to announce from the pulpit, “Value your Vagina.”
I will wear the breastplate of this community. I will wear the belt of each of you. And I will go out into the “theatre of perpetual conflict” wearing fantastic shoes on my feet, ready to proclaim the gospel of peace because Walter Wink was right. The prize will go to the strong. The prize will go to the strong because each of you will be in every one of my steps.
“Life is combat.” These are not my words. In fact, I know these words by Walter Wink were far from my mind when I first sat in Room 207 for orientation three years ago. I didn’t think that answering my call into God’s service had anything to do with combat. Sitting in Room 207, like so many of you, I was concerned about poverty, sexism, racism and homophobia. Like you, I came to Union to make our world better.
Life certainly wasn’t combat for me. And, thankfully, Walter Wink didn’t stop with this sentence. He continues, “ours is neither a perfect nor a perfectible world; it is a theater of perpetual conflict which the prize goes to the strong.” If life is the “theatre of perpetual conflict,” then I think we as graduates of Union Theological Seminary, do indeed have a fighting chance.
If our combat is theater, let’s set the stage and put on our costumes. On this end of Broadway, we like to get dressed up. If you don’t believe me, just ask Brian Cave. Whether singing Carmina Burana or swinging from the rafters at the Pub on Mardi Gras, we like to get dressed up.
Three years ago, I remember that I had very carefully chosen my costume for my debut in Room 207. It was the first time I had adorned the armor of God. And even though I carefully planned and selected my attire, I only remember that the shoes for my feet were flip-flops. Flip-flops have probably been my favorite choice for the shoes on my feet in these three years. Whether I was rolling out of bed for an 8 am Preaching and Worship class or dashing to noon chapel in order to earn my perfect attendance award, I was in flip-flops.
However, I don’t think that flip-flops are really a good choice for armor. In fact, I’m not sure that they are a good choice for the theater. During these three years, we have each played with our choice in costumes. Some of us may never have referred to our dressing up as the “wiles of the devil” as in this letter to the Ephesians. And even as we leave here, we might never want to say that.
But, these are wiles that we are very familiar with. These wiles have dominated our conversations in caucus meetings, classroom discussions or even in conversations in the shelter of the Sukkah in the wee hours of the morning after wine night. The wiles of empire. These wiles have gathered us together here. These wiles have inspired us to march down Madison Avenue protesting war under the Social Action banner. These wiles provoked Angela Escueta and I to terrify the incoming second years with a civil disobedience training in preparation for the Republican National Convention. While I clearly provided some leadership for the Social Action Caucus, we were each motivated by these wiles. So, what did you wear?
What did you wear when you first donned the armor of God? Did you read Scripture in chapel in a t-shirt that proclaimed “Value your Vagina. Vote.”? Or one that announced “Christian in Action”? What did you wear when you first struggled against the cosmic powers of this present darkness?
And what will you wear as you leave? What will your armor of truth, righteousness and peace look like?
As I go from here, I will wear this place as my armor. I will adorn the prophetic words of Delores Williams and James Cone. I will wear the loving embrace of Wyn Wright who reminded me again and again of why I continue with all of this. I will get all dolled up in the courage that Janet Walton continues to give me to believe in the power of art in our worship. I will show off the confidence that Barbara Lundblad gave me to preach. I will wrap myself in the Word that Hal Taussig challenged me to reclaim, even if Revelation is still a mystery to me. I will sail off wearing the quiet sarcasm and wisdom of Troy Messenger. I will I wrap myself in the self-care practice of 7th floor of Hastings sharing marathon upon marathon of Law and Order episodes. I will get decked out in the loving community of women who are proud to announce from the pulpit, “Value your Vagina.”
I will wear the breastplate of this community. I will wear the belt of each of you. And I will go out into the “theatre of perpetual conflict” wearing fantastic shoes on my feet, ready to proclaim the gospel of peace because Walter Wink was right. The prize will go to the strong. The prize will go to the strong because each of you will be in every one of my steps.
5.10.2006
Leaving New York
I am in the process of boxing up the place that I have called home for the past three years. I am leaving New York in a mere two weeks after living here for six years. It's a sad departure, even though I never actually thought that I would live here. But, here I am getting ready to leave this fair city. And I have to admit, I'm a little excited. I'm excited to see grass that I don't have to traverse miles of concrete to discover. I can't begin to explain my excitement.
And yet, it seems that I have to find some way to explain this excitement. I have had two phone interviews already where I have been asked how I feel about not being in New York. It's funny to hear this question. I don't think about myself as a New Yorker. I am. I know I am. But, I don't feel like a New Yorker. Perhaps because I'm so excited to leave.
I am excited to leave behind the weird sense of community in New York. It's a city with wonderful cultural resources and tremendous diversity. But, theater tickets are more expensive than museum entry fees. And we don't really relish in the wonder of our own diversity. We live in compartments where neighbors don't know each other by name or face. We travel underground together but become annoyed when anyone crowds our space. We don't want to touch anyone in this city. We want to live without connections while complaining about our lack of community. We forget to realize the fantastic wealth around us.
I'm ready to leave this behind. I'm ready to engage in real community where I bump into neighbors while grocery shopping or down the street. I don't really know what this will look like. But, I know that I am very ready to leave New York.
And yet, it seems that I have to find some way to explain this excitement. I have had two phone interviews already where I have been asked how I feel about not being in New York. It's funny to hear this question. I don't think about myself as a New Yorker. I am. I know I am. But, I don't feel like a New Yorker. Perhaps because I'm so excited to leave.
I am excited to leave behind the weird sense of community in New York. It's a city with wonderful cultural resources and tremendous diversity. But, theater tickets are more expensive than museum entry fees. And we don't really relish in the wonder of our own diversity. We live in compartments where neighbors don't know each other by name or face. We travel underground together but become annoyed when anyone crowds our space. We don't want to touch anyone in this city. We want to live without connections while complaining about our lack of community. We forget to realize the fantastic wealth around us.
I'm ready to leave this behind. I'm ready to engage in real community where I bump into neighbors while grocery shopping or down the street. I don't really know what this will look like. But, I know that I am very ready to leave New York.
4.27.2006
Humbled
In the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus preaches about a banquet. In the middle of this teaching, he advises "For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted" (v. 11, NRSV). Exaltation is far from what I am feeling as I approach graduation, which is probably good because who really needs to be that arrogant? But, recently, in prayer and thought, I find myself ever humble. I'm surprised by the blessings that lie ahead of me. I'm warmed by the people in my midst. I'm awed by the hope that I hold for this journey toward the unknown.
I graduate really, really soon. It means that I leave New York. It means that I leave the sheltered world of academia. It means that I leave everything that is familiar to me -- everything that has been home for over 5 years. I'm filled with all kinds of exciting energy. I don't know what will happen. I don't know what will come. It seems that there is endless possibility as all of my dreams seem suddenly real. I'm so very humbled by this experience of simply saying goodbye. I'm humbled by the power of saying "yes" to God's call. I'm humbled as just now I schedule a phone interview for a church that would be so amazing to share with in ministry. Wow. I'm not sure I feel exalted in the slightest. But, wow. Wow!
I graduate really, really soon. It means that I leave New York. It means that I leave the sheltered world of academia. It means that I leave everything that is familiar to me -- everything that has been home for over 5 years. I'm filled with all kinds of exciting energy. I don't know what will happen. I don't know what will come. It seems that there is endless possibility as all of my dreams seem suddenly real. I'm so very humbled by this experience of simply saying goodbye. I'm humbled by the power of saying "yes" to God's call. I'm humbled as just now I schedule a phone interview for a church that would be so amazing to share with in ministry. Wow. I'm not sure I feel exalted in the slightest. But, wow. Wow!
4.07.2006
What Would Judas Do?
Holy Week begins on Sunday. The dramatic narrative will all begin as we journey together into Jerusalem. We will celebrate Jesus' triumphant arrival into the city to begin the story that offers us hope as Christians. But, with all of this joy and celebration, there are a lot of dark moments in this story after this arrival. There is a dark evening meal shared by a small group of friends in an upper room. There is betrayal. There is a brutal death. There is judgment and sentencing that still manages to encourage Christians to point fingers at the guilty.
Maybe it's because we don't know how to talk about betrayal. Maybe we don't know how to understand that gap between humanity and the divine. So we point fingers and we blame others. Maybe we are trying to make sense out of something impossible. We blame the Jews. We blame Judas. And sometimes, we even blame ourselves. Perhaps we even blame ourselves as Judas. Perhaps we are able to relate to this betrayal in some way.
But, do we really know Judas story? The story in the gospels is confusing. John tells us that Judas is to blame. He is the one that sets the whole story in motion. Scholars have argued about Judas' choice, if he indeed had one. Scholars will continue to argue about whether or not the story needed to end this way. How else do we get to Easter? How else can we grasp the amazing connection that we have to God? And yet, our Jewish brothers and sisters knew this all along. But, I digress.
Maybe we will get the story straight. It appears on the New York Times coverpage today: the Gospel of Judas has been discovered. Apparently, the text reveals the confusing nature of this betrayal. Jesus Christ Superstar hinted to the fact that Judas shared an intimate connection to Jesus. Perhaps if we read our canonical gospels, we might find this same connection. Perhaps we might read John differently. Perhaps the Beloved Disciple and Judas are not polar opposites. Perhaps they each shared the intimate connection of lying on Jesus' chest. Maybe it happened for Judas at another meal. Maybe we want to make a fluid story. Or worse, perhaps we are too eager to paint a clear picture of evil. Satan enters Judas at this meal in John. Evil becomes manifest and we develop a bad guy. Sadly, we have just accepted Judas as a bad guy.
Maybe today that will change. The article in the New York Times suggests, "The Gospel of Judas portrays Judas Iscariot not as a betrayer of Jesus, but as his most favored disciple and willing collaborator." Perhaps we will learn to ask what would Judas do. Maybe this will make us better Christians. Maybe we will no longer accept evil. Maybe we will challenge our own judgments.
Maybe it's because we don't know how to talk about betrayal. Maybe we don't know how to understand that gap between humanity and the divine. So we point fingers and we blame others. Maybe we are trying to make sense out of something impossible. We blame the Jews. We blame Judas. And sometimes, we even blame ourselves. Perhaps we even blame ourselves as Judas. Perhaps we are able to relate to this betrayal in some way.
But, do we really know Judas story? The story in the gospels is confusing. John tells us that Judas is to blame. He is the one that sets the whole story in motion. Scholars have argued about Judas' choice, if he indeed had one. Scholars will continue to argue about whether or not the story needed to end this way. How else do we get to Easter? How else can we grasp the amazing connection that we have to God? And yet, our Jewish brothers and sisters knew this all along. But, I digress.
Maybe we will get the story straight. It appears on the New York Times coverpage today: the Gospel of Judas has been discovered. Apparently, the text reveals the confusing nature of this betrayal. Jesus Christ Superstar hinted to the fact that Judas shared an intimate connection to Jesus. Perhaps if we read our canonical gospels, we might find this same connection. Perhaps we might read John differently. Perhaps the Beloved Disciple and Judas are not polar opposites. Perhaps they each shared the intimate connection of lying on Jesus' chest. Maybe it happened for Judas at another meal. Maybe we want to make a fluid story. Or worse, perhaps we are too eager to paint a clear picture of evil. Satan enters Judas at this meal in John. Evil becomes manifest and we develop a bad guy. Sadly, we have just accepted Judas as a bad guy.
Maybe today that will change. The article in the New York Times suggests, "The Gospel of Judas portrays Judas Iscariot not as a betrayer of Jesus, but as his most favored disciple and willing collaborator." Perhaps we will learn to ask what would Judas do. Maybe this will make us better Christians. Maybe we will no longer accept evil. Maybe we will challenge our own judgments.
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