I wrote the following poem during my recent return ‘back to school!’ During that time, we were introduced to the book, Trumpet at Full Moon, written by Paul W. Jones. One of the goals of the book is to connect spiritual practice with Christian theology and, in particular, its appropriate relationship with the Trinity. After our Seminar discussed the text, we were given an assignment to practice some of of spiritual exploration and report back with an ‘artefact.’ I chose to share my time of mediation through a poem and image from a Wordle! The poem is below in both text and with the images themselves. I pray it proves of interest!

 

 

A Deacon’s Musing blog

Recently, during one of my tweeting moments for UCiM, I wrote the following UCiM-ism:

The catalyst for this recent blog occurred during my run along the North Saskatchewan River in Edmonton, AB, while I was attending my first Doctoral Seminar at St. Stephen’s College. The run was early in the morning and the sun was kissing eastern clouds painting everything in rosy red crimson that Homer was so found of citing in the Odyssey.

On that path, as I headed back toward my Edmonton abode, there – to my left and right – were Magpies calling to one another, taking notes as I lumbered by and, contrary to what others think is possible in the river valley, I saw a coyote. It watched my advance and subsequent retreat not so much with fright, but with a feigned curiosity. In this moment of Canadian Geese migrating, ducks quacking their quack, and others passing by who wandered into the day upon that trail for various unspoken reasons, I was keenly aware of beauty.

I possess many gifts from my maternal side and one of them happens to be a family-tree. In that meandering weave, which apparently winds its way back to the 4^th Century in Syria, of unspoken stories – joys and grief, celebration and suffering – my family seems to have often (if not always) been rooted in an urban context. That did not change when my Great-Grandfather, fleeing European expansion and rising Christian intolerance from the Ottoman Empire, arrived in Montreal and continued this connexion that informs my family’s mythology.

Knowing this storied part of my family of origin, I am also aware that the enamour of the rural remains a constant counter-point in a world in which global climate change is occurring. This enamour – this romanticising – however, is not new. The Roman Poet, Virgil, is just one ancient person who waxed about the idyllic pastoral lifestyle one experienced when removed from the confines of the city. This tendency to polarise, in my experience, seems to have only intensified as argumentation from those who are ‘green’ and those who represent ‘authority,’ arrive at a place where tension and, implicitly, the potential for violence is rationalised.

In Canada, there is now pending legislation that will make it illegal for activists to wear masks. As well, environmental NGOs, which confront government policy or multi-nationals, may very well face a loss of their charitable status. And though I have some intellectual sympathy for the economic interests that governments attempt to balance for everyone and – at the same time – appreciate the intense passion of those who desire to care for Creation, the ever-increasing rhetoric has me greatly concerned. I am worried that as long as everyone is talking AT each other, lives may become literally caught in situations that will lead to an escalation from which we might be unable to disentangle.

I know I am predisposed to the idyllic or imagined potential that occurs when our creativity is allowed to spread unfettered. I do not think this polarity, binary, comparison is either helpful or – ultimately – accurate. All of God’s Creation is sacred. Not this place or that one. The problem, or such it seems to me, is that we parse, debate, find our individual passion and fail to realise that this entire sphere, planet, is an ecosystem without which we literally cannot live. Quality of life is certainly important and governments, at their best, endeavour to ensure that all have access to the tools and opportunity to better life. The voices of challenge and parable serve to create opportunity to reflect on whether current practice is best or whether there might be another way. But without a mantra of seeking balance in this grey conundrum of human ambiguity there always remains the temptation to know you’re right and I’m wrong

A Deacon’s Musing blog

 “This is bullshit!” There was less conviction this time. It had been a long time coming and the tipping point was close.

“Hello? Can anyone bloody-well hear me?” He thought he was shouting, but he was no longer certain whether his voice was carrying. It might even be possible, he considered, that his voice was so worn that he only heard himself because no one was bloody listening.

He tried to find the phone … it was somewhere nearby … that’s what he knew. Of course, as his hands slipped through that stuff that sure felt like sand, but – since his sight had failed a while back – he couldn’t be sure. He could feel the grit as he moved his hand around, slapping into the granular assumed-to-be-sand-stuff, but he couldn’t find the stupid thing! And, of course, there was something new … he thought there were a lot of new things occurring way too fast when the last thing he knew … no that wasn’t right, was it? No, the last thing he remembers before this hell was when things were going so well! And wasn’t that the point, he thought again?

He gave up, he couldn’t find it. And now, as his hand hung in the embracing grains of pulverised rock, he felt water lapping its way up his wrist. At first it did not register. It seemed that as his sight receded, so too had his sense of feeling. Touch was okay – though a lot of good it did him (he complained) in finding that stupid phone. But suddenly there was the sensation of water and he knew that couldn’t be good. He thought he would be hearing gulls flying away from the rising tide, but he couldn’t hear anything. Which, of course, led him to a moment of swearing as only he could – this of course was a surprise to many who got to know them as they walked the walk along the way. But, lying there, it seemed that he was likely not even speaking, he was only imagining his rote reaction to losing power … instead, he realised with resignation, that he was tired …

What did it matter? He had tried to get away from the ebbing rise. Already he could imagine his arm – from the below the elbow – was blue. Sure felt searingly chilled! And then there it was … what was that sound he thought? He couldn’t lift his head, nope! And – even if he could – he couldn’t bloody well see. But there was a sound … rising water? … sirens? …

Maybe he should have felt … like he had to hide again … but this was something else. Was that wind? Ah, he thought with a moment of doubt, is that a helicopter? Did they find me? Hollow joy for a moment of desire lingered for, but now seeming inconsequential … it wasn’t … mechanical? Or completely … as he drew what energy he had left, it sounded more like feathered flight dancing into a hover … and then the wind died …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

I love a good tale, a yarn that stretches and threads, which connects and binds two dimensional text into vibrant friends, cherished antagonists and, ultimately, leaves you with a longing for more as the yarn ends. I have been reading a long time. I have sought places of intimacy in places in which people walked in vacuums or hiked the splendid Elven forests where magic remains, even in its waning years. I have felt Canadian literature flow from the dystopic imaginings of Atwood to the poetry of Bronwen Wallace, which makes clear that the mundane is extra-ordinary …

And yet, in these ongoing years, as the temptation of adult-cynicism is ever-present, I notice that stories seem to lose their hold on the mind’s eye. Whereas the rich depth of the Lord of the Rings, first read at age 12, once wove a world of good and evil, a place where melancholy of friendship inspired and loss was experienced with renewal, people now seem less inclined to imagination, less willing to imagine something new, and that makes me sad …

Stories are funny things: they inspire, comfort, challenge and allow the mind to create realities that are as different as they are well-known paths from here to there and back again.

Stories are funny things: when our own reality seems impossible, where people suffer in needless situations, they can shine a light through the darkness to possibility, if only we take the time to be enticed into the potential.

Stories are funny things: they mirror our mistakes and reflect back how we might learn from them. They help us to begin to integrate harms we have caused and lead us to places of forgiveness and healing.

Sacred Scriptures (the First Testament, Hebrew Scripture, the Old Testament) and Holy Tomes (The Second Testament, the New Testament) are, at their essential core, stories. They are tales of broken people doing unexpected and marvellous things. They are narratives of the powerful and wealthy oppressing and pillaging the least in their midst for short-sighted gain. These writings, millennia old, are inspired by people wrestling with the Holy, attempting to discern how to navigate potential in a human world of mottled greyness. They are the lingering whisper of a Creator essentially bound in History sharing a longing, a passion, a desire to see us awaken to the truth that we are Beloved, exceptional in our diversity and bound to the end from the beginning!

In reflecting about stories, their import, the power to break us open to possibility and potential, it seems to me that a blog may have a role to play. It can either harness the creativity of characters navigating their way through the plot or it can reinforce paralysis. In the face of a dominant message that would rather you and I acquiesce our own agency in the tale of our collective experience, perhaps this space might ask you which character you are?

I have been thinking a lot about stories and it’s just possible some new characters may be coming to a Musing soon …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

There I was, during one of my weekly cardio workouts, on my treadmill with TED docs waiting in the wings, watching a documentary called Star Warriors. It’s one of the extras on the Star Wars: The Complete Saga Blu-ray, and basically it follows the 501^st Legion gathering at the Rose Bowl in 2007, in order to parade in costume! The 501^st is an international group of diverse men and women, who don Storm Trooper gear, Vader costumes, and Boba Fett jets and go out into the world to … well … not conquer, but do good works. The bond? Star Wars itself …

In another moment of geeky-goodness, I have also noted the proliferation of Browncoats … what’s a Browncoat? Technically they’re people who fought against the Alliance in a Joss Whedon universe, in which the Alliance has defeated the rebels and the rebels have scattered, but not given up the dream of the Independence. In our universe, they are usually a diverse group who gather, in costume, put on showings of the TV series Firefly, the movie Serenity and basically … well they don’t fight the Alliance, they … do good works. And the bond? The Firefly universe …

So what’s my point … and no this is not a simple shout-out to all those geeky-friends to simply, once more, connect my sci-fi geek with my church-geek … it’s got something to do with the reality that both of these tales (and generally any decent sci-fi creation that mirrors our human condition) illustrate the tension of our relationship with violence. In both stories the tools of those rebelling – the Independence and the Rebel Alliance – utilise the tools of war against those – the Empire or the Alliance – who are controlling them. And, of course, it makes for shiny special effects and things that make a cinematic experience grand!

With that critique in mind, however, what happens in real life seems to subvert this paradigm. For those who travel as Browncoats or members of the 501^st Legion, their bond in the tale enables them go into their communities and to fund-raise, meet the needs of their local community, and assist those living as ‘have-nots.’

And of course this subverting of tales of violence also seems to resonate with the ministry of Jesus. We’re in the Easter season now, wrestling with the paradox of life, death and resurrection. What does that mean in the 21^st Century as wars seem to be sprout like weeds (or such is the constant media sound byte)? How are we to respond to the overwhelming nature of this narrative?

In the midst of violence, a death so horrendous that it was strategically designed not only to imbue fear, but also shock and awe to the point of paralysis, the men of women of the Way discovered a new identity: Christian Discipleship. A worldview that enabled – hell, emboldened them – to walk out joyfully into their midst and care for those who were on the margins, to offer compassion for the discarded and they did it, well joyfully! If you listen to the stories of men and women from the 501^st or Browncoats in your communities, there’s a passion clearly evident, which is explicit as they give their time and energy to help those in their midst.

In a world where heroes seem to have to have big bright light sabres or blasters that cut through the fray, there’s a consistent and subversive narrative that turns the other cheek and openly, courageously and in humility offers a different way. And, I for one, think that’s a road I would like to walk … it may be less clear where it will lead, but I have an inkling life will be embraced by colours crisp, sounds resounding with clarity and satisfaction at the end of the day …

A Deacon’s Musing blog

Jesus riding on bike with Easter Bunny

 It’s Easter: well it soon shall be and as Christians we long to sing our hallelujahs! Soon enough, soon enough …

I’ve been thinking and reflecting about this coming day and the import of it. The reality is that it’s central, quintessential to who we are and how we endeavour to understand what that means in our lives. Sure Christmas gets all the glitz and glamour, the ad campaigns and the jingles now a days … Easter, we have chocolate bunnies everywhere, in fact I just got a chocolate cross! Since I’m Fasting, however, I will have to wait …

We live in this context where the scientific method rules our every moment. We are indoctrinated to quantify & qualify, nothing new, but it’s sort of problematic when faith gets thrown in the mix. Okay the following may be somewhat flip, but hey maybe it’ll make the point, if you’re listening …

On one hand, the method that has allowed us to split atoms, send probes beyond our heliosphere and cure things like polio, malaria and the like. It has also – most unfortunately – led to a literalism within faith communities. After all, if you have to touch it, you better be able to prove it! And a proof today – or posit to get all technical – is sort of difficult around the metaphysical and mystical.

When the Greek Fathers were penning the Trinity, it was an exercise in the imagination to illustrate through the cumbersome reality of words to define that which is, well, bloody indefinable! Now, however, there’s people within the Christian fold that have turned it into an algorithm of proof through which all reality must be weighed and literally quantified. And – here’s the kicker – if you’re not on board, you’re judged: judged = Hell with a one way ticket past that big old Jesus …

On the flip side, you have the same literalism, but those who posit that God does not exist. This fundamental atheism possesses just as much judgement, but rather than going to Hell, we are deemed naïve, ignorant, stupid, misled, & often the cause of every social-ill ever perpetrated or conceived … Let’s be clear, I am not trying to discount or ignore the damage done by faith communities, in particular our Christian tradition certainly has much to reflect upon, claim the mea culpa and prayerfully make new choices to undo our harm!

I suspect it begins by recognising, without any sense of judgement, that what we believe is really, well, secondary to what we do by extension of what we believe. In Christian-speak, do we, who have had our hearts broken open by God’s Grace, actually go out into the world to care for others, to extend compassion and to truly lead lives of non-judgement, yet also speak of the righteousness of justice? Do we, who claim any belief system, sit and watch the disparities of our consumer culture and pass judgement on others, fit them into stereotypes that reinforce our world-view and simply feel cosy in the comfort of having the right answer (insert mild rhetorical question mark here:)?

 Now, back to the Christian-context of this blog/rant/irreverent musing …

And here’s the rub, of course it actually happened, people don’t just say ‘Hey, I think I will do this because it makes sense and now I will die for it because my brain makes it logical!’ And, of course, it may or may not have literally happened. AND if you believe it did – awesome!

And, if it is my life that is the gauge, then let me tell you something: I believe we should endeavour every day to let go of our ego and let God. And every day I know that it might actually – literally – mean one’s life and that, dear Reader, is freedom!

A Deacon’s Musing blog

Here we go … this coming Sunday is Palm Sunday and for many of us, who struggle and endeavour to fully live into our Discipleship as Christians, marks the beginning of jubilation that can be present in the midst of human horrors. And this day, when leaves swayed from left to right, up and down, marks Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and there embracing him at the entrance to the Holy City was the crowd. People no different that you and me, and boy were they a finicky bunch!

For some who watch, reflect on, and examine church structure, a useful tool is something called Systems Theory. In essence, it suggests that – sometimes – when men and women come together to form groups (like church’s, NGOs, cooperatives, governments, play groups and sports teams), individual values can get pushed aside and reflect the collective in a completely new manner. At a system’s worst, unfortunately, what you or I may never do in our own lives, we can rationalise, allow, or openly advocate collectively. The most dramatic example of such horrors is summed up by a statement attributed to Martin Niemöller, First They Came …, which challenged the choices of those who did not speak out against the Nazi regime.

Niemöller’s ‘They,’ I believe, is the crowd. And, core to his challenge, is that we are that crowd! There’s a core tension in Palm Sunday which is something I have always experienced during Lent: the reality is that the very same crowd that waved those Palms, like welcoming a victorious General, also openly supported and celebrated Jesus’ execution by the Roman State. From jubilation to blood-letting frenzy, the crowd swayed mirroring those Sunday Palm leaves!

It’s an ugly reality and one that I think gets over-looked way too often. We can be swayed by the opinions of the group, advertising, propaganda, or simply by the road to least resistance that allows us to remain comfortable.  When we are in groups where love is guised in fear, too often we remain silent in the resulting hatred.

I am uncomfortable writing this down; I squirm knowing my inner monologue is now live, but we’re lazy! We’re lazy in that too often we do not recognise that Palm Sunday is part of the Christian story and does not stand on its own. It is part of the story to the Cross: the place at which Jesus’ ministry and choices led to the system, the state, and to friends executing him for challenging that the way wealth was distributed, the way people were dehumanised and the manner in which violence was used to oppress was contrary to God’s desire for ALL of us to be whole and recognise we are loved for who we are, not for whom others would mould us to be.

Palm Sunday, as with any symbol, should and does point beyond itself. As we, you, I walk into Holy Week, I sincerely hope we, you and I can confront the gathering darkness, see where we have been in and contribute to it and, with Hope and Grace, make choices that are uncomfortable, yet completely life-giving! Shine on!

A Deacon’s Musing blog

Life and the journey, it’s always funny how we get from there to here, then over there, and always find ourselves back here! One of the ways I found you … or you found me … is on account of my penchant for conflict. I like conflict … it’s a Zen-thing! While some get anxious, concerned, nervous, fearful … I get  calm! Always have – just the way I’m wired, I guess.

As a young man, I was angry at the world. I liked the subsequent adrenaline, the sense of time slowing and, in turn, I found I was grounded in the moment in a hyper-real way that allowed me to process in ways that were/are exciting. Then, at a certain point, I was introduced to a tool or a framework that allowed me to harness that calm, rather than be ruled or controlled by the anger. That tool was mediation.

Mediation, it’s got a lot of definitions, but for me being a mediator has always sort of been to act as a translator. In the role, I get to walk with those who are so angry, entrenched in disagreement that what they actually WANT to say is usually OVER-SHADOWED by invective and profanity that comes out of their mouth and gets lost … until I can help translate!

There’s been a lot of learnings since first working in the area at the age of 16, but what has become a mantra is that all of us, though particular to conflict, generally perceive ourselves as the hero in our own story. Everyone else is a character and when we get hurt, experience fear, are irritated or pissed off at someone else, well they obviously have to fit the other role: the bad guy, enemy, evil master … maybe you have another word?

And here’s the conundrum – well from a Christian perspective – the hero is not the role our Sacred Stories outline we are Called to be …

… don’t get me wrong, I grew up enamoured with the worlds of Stan Lee,
and now that my comic book heroes are ALL OVER the screen, well I’m just a happy consumer!

… don’t get me wrong, I still so enjoy a great fantasy book.
I read the entire LotR by 13
and then graduate to Role Playing in worlds in which

Dungeons & Dragons allowed my friends and me
to slay the evil-doers!

… don’t get me wrong, I still frag, enjoy a good cRPG
or well devised plot driven FPS like the next geek!

But, as it is Lent, I confess I really do not think Jesus fits the mold AT ALL WELL! Which … yes, I know … means some reflection might be required. Jesus walked through his choices – some might say heroically, though perhaps stalwartly might be more appropriate – without resorting to violence. And, let’s face it; violence is core to any hero, especially the ones with whom we identify the most intimately.

Instead, he faced the violence that was expected of him and rejected embracing it … and perhaps even more challenging to those of us who have inherited this hero framework, he knowing walked into others’ stories – narratives – and challenged them to do the same! Of course no one likes this re-write, especially those who benefit the most, so the re-write must be, quenched, and you know how they did that, right? Yep, violently … and of course that’s the other irritating thing, the hero is not supposed to die! Sure a lot our well-loved comic book characters have lives like a cat, like Superman. Don’t even get me started on Batman (this is the part where I footnote that the Resurrection is an entire blog unto itself …) … yet the CYCLE remains rooted in #@# BAM … WHAM … KAPLOW… WHACK … #$%

There are no easy ways to live into what Jesus’ ministry models. In a world well indoctrinated in might is right, we do our selves a disservice by not acknowledging how difficult it is to change in light of the hero myth. So, when we do begin to awaken, realise the tension as Disciples, it is not a question of whether we are doing enough right away, but whether we are endeavouring to make the changes we can now, so that we begin to step into Kingdom. And, as we do so, to be bolder, less heroic and more present to the suffering that being a hero causes to the other characters in the stories around us!

A Deacon’s Musing blog

Our denomination, the United Church of Canada, is doing lots of exciting things and one of them – church-geek drumroll please – is revisiting of Basis of Union, discussing Doctrine and imagining how we might supplement, add or complement the work that has occurred over the intervening 85+ years!  This process is formally known as Remit 6.

 Really you watch that show?
You actually voted for that person?
I didn’t even bother showing up, what difference would it make?

Choose your scenario, apply the question, and ask yourself: Are we living in a cynical age? Okay – perhaps that was rhetorical … do you actually trust anyone out there who holds a public role, politician or artist? Actor or social activist?

 What do you mean by trust?
In whom do we have confidence?
Who are you willing to follow,
even if you are resistant?

Authority and Power: they’re funny words, often confused with one another, constantly used interchangeably and yet, as a people of faith, they are in fact quite different. The best way I can try to illustrate it is in this manner:

Power: Someone can tell you to do something and even though you do not want to do it, you still do! Often there is there is the underlying reality of force or coercion. What, in your life or experience, would fit this?

Authority: Someone who has influence in your life. Often grounded in words such as honour, integrity, respect, and for whom wisdom is attributed.  Someone with authority can challenge you, push you, but ultimately you choose whether or not to follow any direction they might have to offer. Who in your own journey has displayed such qualities and influenced the path upon which you now find yourself?

I got to musing about this pair of words owing to recent developments here in Winnipeg. Politicians, who at one time held and campaigned on a particular platform (in this case no new taxes), have apparently changed their minds and wow are we getting taxes … As I discussed previously – A Deacon’s Musing: Taxes & the Social Good – I have no problem with taxation, as long as it serves its purpose: i.e. generally improve the environment in which human beings interact and live.

What has been interesting since my last musing about taxes, however, has been the general malaise that I have noticed. As opposed to the impassioned protest that Brandon experienced, Winnipeggers seem resigned. And, when there has been some trust earned, I have asked people who voted a certain way, why they are not concerned. Generally, the response has echoed the cynicism I mentioned above and a brooding distrust of those whom we have empowered to govern on our behalf in our democratic context …

And, of course, this has led me back to the ministry of Jesus … because regardless of what is happening in the secular world and our challenge to realise we may not be able to affect change there, in our faith contexts we get to do some musing. The first musing, for another time, is whether the worlds of the secular and faith are actually different? And, for this current exploration does Jesus have power?

He certainly displayed power, but at the end of the day, I believe his ministry was grounded in authority. He asked a lot of irritating questions, pushed people to wrestle with assumptions and look in the mirror about whether what they said actually met what they did. But – and with Jesus and the ministry we have inherited there is often a BUT – he never forced anyone to do anything, rather quite the opposite. He left men and women in the grayness of human choices on the precipice of awakening to the larger and fundamental questions of the Kingdom to Come and, well, he walked on …

So, Lent 2012 proceeds and the various award shows fill the air waves and sporting events move toward completion in trophies, accolades and REALLY loud arenas. I wonder, therefore, how willing we are to let Jesus’ authority, as lived out in the record we have of his ministry, lead us down paths we may be resistant to go, but do so nonetheless …

A Deacon’s Musing blog