People of the Cross—monologues for holy week

Monday: Temple Vendor (“who picks up the pieces?”)

It was a busy weekend in Jerusalem, with everyone beginning to arrive for Passover. We had our hands full, between worrying about the lateness of our lambs and wondering if we’d have enough turtledoves for the crowds wanting to make other sacrifices before the big festival. The courtyard of the Temple was crowded, and noisy, with birds squawking and people shouting and the Romans stomping about making their presence known. I didn’t even get a chance to look out and see what the singing and commotion was about yesterday, but I heard that the crowds were singing for a rabbi who’d just arrived. Some of the children were even calling him the Son of David, which won’t make the leaders too happy.

Since I couldn’t get away from my stall for even a second, I wasn’t prepared when this rabbi arrived in the Temple, trailing the crowd still chanting “hosanna.” At first he was just like any other visitor, looking around at the big stones and the high walls, they are a marvel after all. This place is beautiful, not to mention that God lives inside. That’s why we merchants are here, because people need perfect animals and the right currency to make their offerings, so we change their foreign money and sell them sacrificial doves and lambs. How would people worship if we weren’t here to help?

But then this rabbi started shouting, and somehow he was heard over the din of people and animals. He was shouting about a house of prayer—well, that’s what this is, a house of prayer. All of a sudden I knew why he could be heard above the racket, because all my senses narrowed as my own table was turned over and my bird cages scattered! I couldn’t think of anything as I grabbed as many birds as I could and ran out, slipping on the coins spilled from the currency exchange, with his voice chasing me through the gate, saying we’d made the Temple a hideout for criminals. 

Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know that I’m not sure about going back to work today. The city is abuzz with gossip about this rabbi, they say he’s called Jesus, and he might be The One. He’s certainly got us all talking about what is worship and what we need to pray properly. There’s lots of grumbling, too, about what he says about the Temple being for all nations, and about God being with him. I don’t know where this will all end up, but for today I think I’ll keep the birds at home and see if I can find him to hear more of what he has to say. Someone’s got to pick up the pieces.

Tuesday: religious leader (“he’s got to go”) 

There’ve been rumours for weeks, but we didn’t think he’d really come here. Especially during the Passover festival! After all he’s said and done, he has to know that it isn’t only we clergy keeping an eye on him, the Romans are too. And the last thing we need is a riot, or worse, a revolution. 

The rumours say this Jesus fellow has been attracting huge crowds, and then he teaches them how to break the rules that we have so carefully set up and followed for years. He even heals on the Sabbath! And worse than that, he feeds people, even the ones who weren’t prepared to take care of themselves when they left home to go hear him preaching in the countryside. He gets them sharing with each other and crossing all sorts of boundaries, mixing up women, and outcasts, and sinners, and people who are ill, and tax collectors, and regular men, all together as if they belong in one family or something. He’s turning people away from the true worship of our traditions!

He knows his scriptures, too, so it’s hard to catch him out. We asked him which commandment was most important, and he said to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and to love your neighbour as yourself—he quoted Deuteronomy and Leviticus at us, and what could we say? He was right, of course. So we asked about taxes, and he turned the question around until we couldn’t answer without getting ourselves in trouble. Even when he heals people on the Sabbath he quotes scripture to defend himself, something about doing good and helping people in trouble no matter what day it is. It’s going to be hard to pin anything on him unless he makes a big mistake. 

I thought maybe that stunt with the donkey and the crowd chanting Hosanna would do it, since he was clearly pretending to be like our ancient kings returning to the city of David. And then when he had that tantrum in the Temple, we looked for a way to arrest him. But the crowds are spellbound. I don’t know what they see in him, but it’s getting dangerous. He’s not just a threat to our power, he’s a threat to everything we’ve got going here—peace with Rome, peasants who don’t talk back, and just enough religious freedom to arrange things our way. If he keeps talking about loving people who don’t deserve it, and mixing up different kinds of people, and bending the rules just for the sake of compassion or what he calls justice, well...I don’t like to speculate about what happens if the emperor hears about the crowds he draws and how they call him the Son of David. We need a plan. Maybe we can buy off one of his followers somehow? Whatever it takes—He’s got to go.

Wednesday: the woman who anoints Jesus at Bethany (he’s the one)

I’ve been saving this up for....I don’t know what. I put it up on a shelf, behind some baskets. I hid it there, myself, waiting until the day I needed it.

When I heard Jesus was staying nearby, after all that he’s said and done, after all I saw in the city this weekend, after hearing him myself, I decided today was the day. 

It took a few minutes of rearranging, balancing on the stool to reach up to where the jar was pushed all the way to the back. Alabaster is fragile, so I wanted to be careful, but it still felt heavy so the perfume inside hadn’t leaked at all. It’s a beautiful jar, and once I wiped off the dust it nearly glowed in the afternoon light. 

Before I could lose my nerve I went right in to the dinner, even though I wasn’t invited. The whole way there I was working the cork loose, to be sure I could open the jar quickly. I poured the entire bottle onto Jesus, almost before anyone reclining at the table could see me. The scent filled the house, overpowering the smell of the food. It was a rich delight for the senses, to feel the smooth ointment on my hands, to smell the perfume...but then I heard the voices rising. I was so focussed on offering my gift, trying to show Jesus my love for him, how much I thought he was worth, I hadn’t thought what others might say.

They were angry, and their words cut through my prayers like spikes into my heart. Calling me wasteful...calling me a waste. They didn’t seem to remember that Jesus always had time for the poor, and the stranger, and the widow. I’d heard him tell the stories about God’s kingdom being like yeast hidden in flour, rising up from within, and being like a woman who looked for a lost coin and rejoiced with her neighbours when she found it. I’d seen him touch the leper and sit at table with sinners. Hadn’t they heard the same teaching I had, about the woman who gave her only two coins, or about giving to God what belongs to God? Weren’t they there when he fed the multitudes with only a few loaves given by a child? I started to wonder if maybe I didn’t belong after all, if I had heard wrong when people called him the Messiah, the one coming to save us.

With tears in my eyes, I wiped his feet with my hair, and waited.

“She has anointed my body for burial” he said.

“You should always be taking care of the poor, just as she took care of me” he said.

“Wherever my story is told, hers will be as well” he said.

I looked up, and saw love in his eyes—Love far more extravagant than my greatest gift. 

He understood. I had offered everything I had to him, just as he was offering everything he had for all of us. He’s the One.

Thursday: the owner of the upper room (the room where it happened)

There are many great things about living in the city. I enjoy the hustle and bustle, and being close to the Temple means I hear a lot of interesting teachers speak. Most of the animals are outside the walls so it isn’t quite as smelly as some villages can be. My walls are stone and my house doesn’t leak if we get a big desert rain. And, like everyone else, since my family and I live only on the ground floor, our guest room upstairs can be rented out during the big festivals. I can go worship and then stay in my own bed at night, while making a little money by offering a space for people from the country to stay too. 

This year is a bit unusual, because the guest room upstairs is full for the night, but a few days ago a young man asked me if he could hire the room just for dinner time. I could use a few extra coins, so I said sure. We moved the packs to the roof, brought up some tables, and I set my daughters to cleaning and doing some of the cooking. Then a couple of this man’s friends—I guess he’s a rabbi, and they’re his disciples?—appeared and said they’re to prepare the meal. Well, I don’t know what sort of disciples they are who can cook, but my girls were glad of the help, and I could hear them giggling as they tried to teach these young men to chop vegetables and boil eggs and roll out matzoh. Then the disciples went off to the Temple to get their lamb sacrificed, and they brought it back ready to cook...perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that they left that to the girls and went back to their rabbi!

When I opened the door to them tonight I was surprised how many there were. There was the man who’d arranged the room, he must be the rabbi. There were twelve of his disciples with him, and also some other followers too, women and men. I led them upstairs, and we laid out the Passover feast, and then left them to it. 

Normally, I would go down and preside at my own Passover table with my family. But since they’ve been working hard all day on two meals, ours is a bit delayed. So here I am, kneeling on the top step, trying to listen through the door. Most everything I’ve heard has been the usual way of the Seder, with the story of slavery in Egypt, plagues, and escaping through the Red Sea. But he also said something strange about the bread and wine and his body and blood, and I can’t tear myself away even though I know my family is downstairs waiting. There’s some confused conversation coming through the door, I think they’re coming toward me...perhaps I can be invited in to the room where it happens?

Wednesday Interesting

yeah, last week I got distracted and didn't post all the cool stuff I came across. It happens.

Therefore, this week is a REALLY LONG post. But seriously, everything's awesome. Save it for your day off or when you need a brain break or something.

Obviously, this week's news is heavy on Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman/race/guns/etc. The whole situation is so horrifying I don't even really know where to begin. So instead I'll point you to just three things. One is a reflection on the sad reality of life for too many people. One is a reflection by a friend and fellow clergy woman, on the ways that white women (like both of us) play into this story. Otis Moss III is my secret (not anymore) preacher crush. That man can bring a word to just about any situation.


Meanwhile, there might be hope--if we can figure out how to let our kids grow up before we either kill them or ruin them:


While we're on the subject of race and class and opportunity and whatnot, you need tissues for this one. Read it AND watch the video. Seriously--it's worth your time. There aren't a lot of good news stories these days, so you need this.

"'Things like this don't happen to kids like us,' he cried on that unimaginable night, his face beaming bronze, his tears soaking into my shoulder. And he is right. Blind and legless kids from the ghettos don't get college educations and shiny accolades, but they should. And that is why I stayed. Because hope and love and rejoicing and redemption can happen to kids like them."

And in case you were thinking "well, at least we got the women thing sorted out"...watch this. The title "what every woman already knows" is exactly right. There's more to the world than what those in power experience.

There's also more to our experience than we may have thought before. Turns out that some of the external factors of our lives influence our genes in ways that can be passed on to the next generation. So interesting to think about! (and gives new meaning to the business about our sins being visited on our children.)

While we're thinking about things that shape and form who we are, this is a beautiful reflection on church--one of the last places for multi-generational experience. How do we ensure that we are able to speak to multiple generations, formed by such different experiences, with the same gospel?

How do we minister with and to people whose lives and faith are shaped by this emerging new world, who need a form of faith that answers the questions that arise in this new world? How do we at the same time and within the same congregation minister with and to people shaped by a fading world, who respond to a form of faith that was shaped by that world? How do we do both without tearing ourselves or each other apart?

One start would be to not be dismissive of either younger or older generations. While this is pretty snarky, it's also right on when it comes to the experience many of us are having. (says this member of the X-Millennial bridge) Please stop putting "young people" down. For starters: it doesn't make "us" want to listen or engage. Shaming never works, it just shuts people down.

And while we're at it, maybe we could contemplate ways to be an actual community full of kind compassionate people? Yes, we're human. That doesn't mean we have license to be mean to one another. If the church's purpose is to "exhibit the kingdom of heaven to the world" (as per the PCUSA Book of Order) then shouldn't we be trying harder to be that?

I firmly believe that by finally dragging our differences and petty arguments into the light of day, it will be a massive first step in breaking our mean habits. For far too long, while we have been waging a war within our own foxholes, the real enemy has had the run of the place. He has been unchallenged because Christ's army is too wounded from friendly fire to even crawl to the battlefield for the real fight. And an enemy who is unopposed is no longer your enemy. He has actually becomes your ruler.

One of the things I spend a lot of time thinking about is language: how do we use it, what's correct and what's emerging and where do those trajectories meet, what are we saying when we use particular words or phrases? This is one of the reasons I am a proponent of inclusive and expansive language. But the pesky English pronouns....


There's some really cool stuff going on in the world, in addition to all the drama and horror of life. Check this out--there could one day be streets that eat pollution! I just think that's worth more exclamation points. !!! Of course, the ideal is a world in which we're not producing pollution, because we've moved beyond fossil fuels. But one thing at a time, right?

Also, gorillas were observed learning and applying their knowledge in the wild.  So cool. And I confess there's a part of me that wants to say something like "take that, evolution-deniers." But that's neither kind nor helpful, nor exactly accurate. But still. Cool.

For everyone who's forgotten, Egypt is still happening. While some days are promising and other days terrifying, this article (admittedly 10 days old now--what happens when I skip a week) is a pretty good meta-analysis. Thought-provoking too, about the consequences of approaching things this way. (As an aside: please remember that our own revolution took over a decade to solidify into a constitutional government, and we weren't even being watched every second on the internet. Why do we expect others to happen overnight?)

"The price Egypt has paid and will pay for the consequences of this decision are too high. It has created a generation of Islamists who genuinely believe that democracy does not include them. The post-June 30 fallout reaffirms this belief, especially with Islamist channels and newspapers closed down, as well as leaders detained and held incommunicado, apparently pursuant to an executive decision. For 30 years, Mubarak told them that due process is not for them, and a popular revolution is confirming that. It is Egyptian society that will pay the price of the grievances this causes, and the fact that, with a silenced media and no coverage from independent outlets, they have been left with virtually no channels to get their voice heard."

This column beautifully weaves together a typical day at the beach and a reflection on our calling and responsibility as people of God. Love it.

And, last but never least, a treat for those who made it to the end. Today is the anniversary of the opening of Disneyland! I heart Disneyland, and while I never see anyone dressed this way there anymore (how would you go on rides in those skirts???), it's fun to see how much is the same and how much has changed in nearly 60 years. Not to mention the celebrities. :-)
 

a busy Ideas day

Thursday I went to three Ideas Week labs. They were all awesome in their way, but I'm going to combine the afternoon/evening ones into one post, and then work my way through all I learned at the first one (the Agile workshop) because that's going to take more than one blog post to digest, and it's something I'll probably be working on in my head for a while!

and yes, I'm still planning to get back to some of the things I said I'd pick up from the Monday and Tuesday sessions too...(not until after I get back from tomorrow's African Drumming workshop though!!!)

So, both the afternoon and evening sessions I went to yesterday had the word "interesting" in the title or subtitle. The premise of both is, essentially, that everyone is interesting, we just need to know how to draw that out of people and how to showcase it in ourselves (but without constantly "pitching" ourselves--this is not about selling yourself, it's about building relationships and conveying stories). In a world all about status updates and 140 character tweets, this is harder than it sounds!

In the first, we learned some of the techniques that Me So Far uses to get people to open up and share things about themselves that you probably wouldn't learn in your average first date. In the second, we heard from Public Radio hosts and reporters both about how to get people to share and how to convey your own interest.

So, at Me So Far we were asked to think about answers to a series of questions that really offer you a variety of ways to answer. You can go for the deep or the shallow option, you can show visuals or just offer the words, you can let your sense of humor shine through or you can convey really serious stuff...all in answer to questions you've probably never been asked. For example:

• What is something you would tell your 18 year old self?
• Show us the last picture taken on your phone.
• What is a number of significance in your life, and why?
• If you could create a convention on the topic of your choice, it would be...
• Who, outside your family, has had the most significant impact on your life?
• What is something you haven't figured out yet?

As you can imagine, these questions open up a whole world of stories, and are far more revealing than the usual "what do you do" kind of small talk in which we often find ourselves stuck. And, if done right, offer a whole bunch of opportunity to think about community building, not just dating (what Me So Far is for). What questions are we asking people who want to join our churches? How are we facilitating the growth of real relationships, not just small-talk-pros in our pews? What would it mean for us to create a community where we are primed and prepared and used to being asked real things about our real lives, which we will answer with real stories and real feelings and real questions?

I think this is where the Public Radio lab then really comes into play. The host and reporter talked with us about how to be interesting, and in their whole hour said very little about what we might actually say. Instead they talked a lot about how we listen. One of the phrases they used was that we need to "listen relentlessly."

Listen Relentlessly. I love that.

How often are we listening only for the piece of information to which we can relate, so we can then do the talking? Or for the thing with which we disagree, so we can argue? Or not listening at all, because we're busy thinking about brunch or the Bears game or the laundry or work or why my phone is buzzing in my pocket?

They also reminded us not to ask "verb-leading questions"--those questions that start with a verb (did/do/are/will/etc) are almost always closed questions, they really only require a yes or no. Instead go for the standbys we all know: who/what/where/when/how/why. These open ended questions offer opportunity for people to share, rather than simply conveying information. But then you have to practice relentless listening, because it's more work to pay attention to the answer to these questions than to yes-or-no questions. (You'll notice all those Me So Far questions were these open ended discussion starters, not the usual "do you like it?" kind of things. Again, what kind of questions are we asking when we come to Bible study? Worship? Meetings? Fellowship? Classes? Hospital rooms? Community organizations?)

Which leads to another piece of advice from the pros--allow the silence. Don't fill it with another question or prompt or anything at all--not even a verbal encouragement, though body-language-encouragement is good. Just let the silence be there, and often people will continue elaborating or telling something new. You would think in church we would be good at this, but no--we are just as terrified of silence as the average American who has their 3 devices going at the same time. But silence can open up new worlds--and these are the RADIO people telling us to let the silence hang for a bit! If anyone should be concerned about dead air, it's them, and yet...

They also said that everyone should read widely--Steve Edwards gets the New Yorker and the Economist and Us Weekly. You never know what might be applicable to your job, your conversation, your relationships, your life--so read widely, pay attention, and be ready to see connections where others might not. Interestingly, this is exactly why I've been at Ideas Week, even though I haven't been to anything directly church related. Because of the cross-pollination, the expanding of ideas, the possibilities, the connections that don't seem obvious but are still there...

And then there's this little gem: in talking about how difficult it had been to get certain people to speak up and tell their stories, they mentioned the difference between radio and print media. In order to run a radio story, you've got to have good tape. In print, a reporter can take what they've learned, synthesize it, and write it up in his/her own voice. On radio, the story only works if its own voice can be heard. You have to find ways for the story to be heard, not to tell it in your own words. The applications of this to preaching, teaching, and pastoral care are astounding. You would think we would all have learned this by now, but we need to keep re-learning--our job as preachers is to let the story's voice be heard. How can we work to get "good tape" rather than always resorting to just telling it in our own words?

(the studio tour? the hanging out with public radio staff? the chatting about possible future events? Also incredibly awesome.)

the stories we tell...and the ways we tell them

Yesterday I went to the Storyteller talk at Chicago Ideas Week. It was a great lineup of people who tell all kinds of stories in all kinds of ways. There was Rebecca Skloot, author of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, talking about how a good narrative helps us learn and retain information. There was Arun Chaudhary, the first official White House videographer, talking about the importance of telling a lot of stories, all the time, because "transparency is a discipline." There was a dancer, telling a story we probably all interpreted differently. There was the Chief Creative Officer of the Leo Burnett advertising agency, talking about the narratives that have become such a part of our common experience in just 15 or 30 seconds. And there was A.J. Jacobs, author of a number of book some call "stunt" journalism, or "method" or "immersion" or whatever other word you want to use--basically, they are books where you try something out for a specified period of time and write about it. He's written about: reading the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica, trying to follow every rule/advice in the Bible, and trying to become the healthiest person.

All of these storytellers talked about the power of narrative in human life, how important stories have been and continue to be. The advertising creator said that the goal of advertising is: "to tell stories that change people, that change the way we live, and so change the world."

(put aside for a moment how scary a reality that is: that advertising's goal is to change people and change the world...what does that mean for who we are and what the world is, and the power of advertising? etc.)

And yes, stories are that powerful. The ways we tell stories changes, of course--from cave drawings to scrolls to plays to books to silent movies to reality television to commercials. Sometimes it takes hours or days (or longer) to get the sweep of a narrative, sometimes it takes a 30 second spot. And American culture is moving from a story being-told-to-us to a story we-are-telling (a multi-voice narrative, not a single voice).

But here's what got me in this presentation: A story is the bedrock of faith. There is a story that we believe can change people, change the way we live, change the world. And we have believed that long before advertising existed.

And our story is a zillion times more powerful, has more potential for transforming us and the world, than the stories of the m-n-m characters or the Mayhem that requires Allstate insurance or reading the Encylopedia or or or or...

And yet.

So how can we get the details, or even just the broad sweep, of our story across in a way that people can hear, and retain, and be transformed? In a world that is no longer about listening to one person talk, or reading a lot of small words on a thin page, or simply believing what we are told, how can the church find a way to tell the most powerful story?

Ideas welcome!

(later, or maybe later in the week, thoughts on truth, facts, stories, reality, etc.)

more on church and Rev. Wright

Carol over at Tribal Church has written a really interesting and powerful reflection on religion and race in America--I recommend it highly!
While I won't say that my post a few days ago about the purpose of church comes anywhere close to her piece, I will say that I think they are part of the same broader conversation. Please go read what she has to say.

monks

I was so hoping to fit the Monk Story (as I call it) into my sermon this week, but it's not going to happen. Therefore I'm going to tell you all the monk story.

Once there was a monastery with a bunch of old monks. No new monks had come for a long time. There was a monk that annoyed everyone because he slurped his soup. There was a crotchety old monk. There was a monk who irritatingly kept track of who arrived a few seconds late for mass. There was a monk who snored so loudly everyone else could hear him. All of the monks were pretty set in their ways and sometimes were...well...not subtle about the ways other monks annoyed them.

The abbot was not at all sure what to do about this or about the fact that the monastery was going to die with them, so he went to visit a hermit in the woods. After hearing the story (over a cup of tea of course!), the hermit said "well, I don't know how to bring more monks to your monastery, but I do know something: one of you is God."

well, the abbot sure was surprised to hear that! He went back to the monastery wondering who it might be--the slurper? The snorer? the time-keeper? bad-tempered-bob? He gathered the few remaining old monks and told them what the hermit had said. They were quite excited to hear this, but also desperate to know who it was! They left the chapter-house all-abuzz.

Well, not knowing who was God, they began to treat each other as if each one might be God, they began looking for Christ in each other. Soon enough the atmosphere of the place changed from one of grumpiness to one of joy. The very air was vibrant. Soon people began to flock to the monastery to try to learn what these monks knew...and the monastery grew and thrived. And they never did figure out which of them was God.

The end.

I love this story. I like it almost as much as the camel story, which will wait for another day because right now I am procrastinating on turning the 1700 words I have already written into something resembling a sermon.