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Showing posts with label Brene Brown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brene Brown. Show all posts

Monday, March 22, 2021

Sermon: B Lent 1, February 21, 2021, "Wild Hearts"

 

B Lent 1 BFC 2021
Mark 1:9-15; Mark 4:24-25
February 21, 2021

We belong to one another.  This is one of the fundamental assertions made by the Christian tradition and Scripture.  In the Lakota tradition, it is comprehended by the phrase, Mitakuye oyasin, (Mee-tah-koo-yay Oy-yah-seen) , “we are all related,” that truth which stretches out beyond humankind to embrace animals, plants, the wider world.   And it would seem that we are in a time whether we affirm that truth, live out of that reality, or we perish protesting that we are not our sister’s keeper, the Grand River, or that we do not belong to our siblings struggling for full rights and to be without fear in the Trans-community. 

And we are in an extraordinary moment.  Activist, scholar, and author, Angela Davis, recently said,

 

This is an extraordinary moment. I have never experienced anything like the conditions we are currently experiencing, the conjuncture created by the COVID-19 pandemic and the recognition of the systemic racism that has been rendered visible under these conditions because of the disproportionate deaths in Black and Latinx communities. And this is a moment I don’t know whether I ever expected to experience.[1]

 

We belong to one another.  If this pandemic is not a time of the wilderness, I’m not sure what is.  In this extraordinary moment, when many of us long for normal, we have too often failed to recognize that “church” was born out of a time that was far from normal.  For this blessed church, if this interim time has not been an opportunity to train our attention on what is important, then maybe we have given up on what it means to be church.  Because my concern for you all is that what this wilderness has become is just a waiting time—a waiting time until we can get back to “normal”—with each of you having a different idea of what “normal” means.  We belong to one another. 

Research professor, wisdom-giver, and author, Brené Brown, shares what she considers to be the elements of what it means to remember that we belong to one another—a strong back, a soft front, and a wild heart.  Having a strong back is to speak truth to b.s. while at the same time being civil.  We remain self-differentiated while also remaining connected.  Having a soft front has to do with our deepest need—to be seen by other people, to really be seen and known by someone else.  But we’re all so armored up these days, armored up to the point where there is not a chance on God’s green earth that we can be seen.  We need a soft front to be seen.  Finally, to remember that we belong to one another, we need a wild heart, a heart that lives in the landscape of the paradoxes and the tensions of grit and grace, tough and tender, excited and scared.   In our wildness, we have such possibility to choose from--a diversity of responses that come with nuance and precision.

In Christian spirituality, the three basic values are intention, balance, and freedom.  These values reflect what it means to be wild at heart.  For we are not caught slavishly reacting to whatever the world throws at us.  Rather, we intentionally and creatively choose the right amount of grit or grace, toughness or tenderness, excitement or fear for the present moment.[2]  Our balance between those tensions does not allow us to get knocked off our pins.  We use these paradoxes as tools, with a freedom that calls for just the right amount in any given situation.    

           We all have that fundamental need to belong.  And to remember that we belong is to be wild at heart.  “Wild” comes from that word “wilderness.”   Lent is the invitation to walk in the wilderness, to put down the extra baggage, because it just might kill us, if we try to lug it around.  The wilderness is the place where the sources of life and sustenance are foreign to us.  So we will have to whittle down, figure out what our core values are, liberate our attention to discern what really matters.  We will have to develop mantras to repeat over and over, as a contrast to what the world tells us about who we are and to remember that we do belong.    

Every year the Revised Common Lectionary has us reading the follow up to Jesus’s baptism by John the Baptist.  Every year, on the First Sunday of Lent, Jesus walks out into the wilderness for 40 days.  This is a not-so-disguised replay of the Children of Israel walking out into the wilderness 40 years after they left bondage in Egypt.  In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is thrown out into the wilderness by the Spirit.  The Greek word[3] is the same one used to describe Jesus throwing out demons from the occupied and colonized Jewish people throughout Mark. 

Seemingly, by the spiritual force of the Spirit, Jesus has no choice.  As we all do, Jesus must make his way through the wilderness.  It is a divine journey.  For in the wilderness, we learn the rules for how we are to live in the Promised Land.  Every year Lent comes around and we practice living in this stark landscape, this extreme place, to learn of God’s presence and our own power.  What are those mantras we will repeat over and against the imperial narrative? 

Three mantras are found in Jesus’s wilderness story in Matthew and Luke.

 

·       God is beyond just making sure my needs are satisfied through displays of power and status.

·       God is not about the flash and the show and has nothing to prove.  So don’t go around trying to prove God.

·       Do not worship power-over and all of its trappings..  Serve the God who works with power from below and across the table. 

 

We may believe we walk in the wilderness alone, but the wilderness is not loneliness.  Loneliness is driven by our lack of authenticity, and our authenticity sometimes requires that we jeopardize our connection with other people to say, “I disagree.  That’s not funny.  I’m not on board.”  Those who have the highest levels of belonging in the world show up, knowing that we stand alone in our values at times.  For when we stand up against something we do not think is right or for something we know to be right, we are connected to every other person who has made the journey through the wilderness.[4]  In the wilderness, we learn to imitate the wild heart of God, unbound, unfettered, and unattached to the imperial narrative.

The wilderness creates a moment of beholding.  Beholding is where we learn to pay attention for the first time.  The wilderness forces us to take account of our lives.  Instead of being caught up in schedules, rushing around, and deadlines, we come into the present moment and stop.  And now we look.  What is the opportunity in the given moment?  Now with this beholding, we see the opportunity in the given moment.  We are called to do something with this opportunity.  We avail ourselves of the opportunity and we go.[5]   

The wilderness is the call to fast from anything that is not rooted in love.  In Lent, we are to develop our spiritual practice of fasting.   What we give attention to grows.  What we pay attention to grows.  Let our self-imposed wilderness be a spiritual practice of not giving our attention to those things, as author and community organizer, Adrienne Maree Brown writes, that are “other people’s cycles, their mistakes, lies, or ignorant projections, or the domination cycles of those who measure their humanity in false supremacy.”[6]  Brown believes we are caught up in cycles where our attention is caught up in cycles of crises and commercialism.  Our attention is drawn to stories that keep us on a string like puppets.  We pay attention to those stories that leave us furious or helpless—without power.  And then the next scandal or controversy comes along and, “Squirrel!” our attention is once again diverted and we are manipulated away from what brings power in the wilderness to the next thing we will buy, the next scandal or controversy, the path that splits us in 40 different directions.

Let us fast from those things.  Let us liberate our attention, let us shine sunlight on everything we want to see grow.  Imagine bringing our attention to rhythms of gratitude, collective power, experimentation, curiosity and celebration and doing that together as a congregation?  Imagine bringing our attention to those rhythms and watching them grow?

Right now our world requires “a shift from individual, interpersonal and inter-organizational anger towards a viable, generative, sustainable systemic change.”[7]  Anger, violence, and outrage and how we have been wronged or gypped by what did not go our way . . . .seem to be the only tools we have as we walk into the wilderness.  And we need something more.  We need to remember that the wilderness is about training our attention, helping us to discern what is important. 

If this pandemic is not a time of the wilderness, I’m not sure what is.  For this blessed church, if this interim time has not been an opportunity to train our attention on what is important, then maybe we have given up on what it means to be church.  Because my concern for you all is that what this wilderness has become is just a waiting time until we can get back to “normal”—with each of you having a different idea of what “normal” means.  Adrienne Maree Brown writes that when she trains her attention to rhythms of gratitude, collective power, experimentation, curiosity, and celebration, sheexperience(s) a lot of days where [she is] full of awe, laughter, work that induces pride, noticing the small and massive miracles that are part of each day.”

How do we get there?  How do we start with ourselves and this community of faith in Jackson, Michigan, so that we might all have a strong back, soft front, wild heart, and remember that we belong to each other?  I believe it starts when we see this place of pandemic, this wilderness, as a way to discern our rhythms to decide, what we will leave behind, what we will no longer lug around to our own detriment, and what we will grow with our attention. 

I pray that you have heard me encouraging you to see this interim and pandemic time as an opportunity.  And that you, with a strong backs, soft fronts, and wild hearts bring attention to the rhythms that will grow you.  May it be so.  Amen. 

         



[1] Angela Davis, “Uprising & Abolition: Angela Davis on Movement Building, “Defund the Police” & Where We Go from Here,” Democracy Now!, June 12, 2020, https://www.democracynow.org/2020/6/12/angela_davis_historic_moment

[2] “strong back, soft front, wild heart:  conversation with Brené Brown,” OnBeing, February 8, 2018, https://onbeing.org/programs/brene-brown-strong-back-soft-front-wild-heart-feb2018/.

[3] ekballw (ekballw)

[4] “strong back,” Brown.

[5] “The Anatomy of Gratitude:  Interview with David Steindl Rast,” On Being, January 21, 2016, https://onbeing.org/programs/david-steindl-rast-anatomy-of-gratitude/.

[6] Adrienne Maree Brown, “attention liberation, attention reparations,” October 28, 2017, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2017/10/28/attention-liberation-attention-reparations/.

[7] Adrienne Maree Brown, “what is/isn’t transformative justice?”  July 9, 2015, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2015/07/09/what-isisnt-transformative-justice/.

Thursday, May 17, 2018

Palm Sunday, "Attention liberation-collective effervescence"


B Palm Sunday BFC 2018
Mark 11:1-11, 16-17
March 25, 2018

       Throughout the United States, on this Palm Sunday, pastors and priests are standing to preach what has become a regular seminary topic.  Thirty years ago it was taught to me, seems to be blogged about every spring, shared all over social media the week before, and comes as a wag of the finger to all of you who will only attend Palm Sunday and Easter Day services.   You should know that the liturgical calendar is set up in such a way that you are not to go from celebration to celebration.  In between Palm Sunday and Easter Day are betrayal, desertion, crucifixion, and death.  I am supposed to tell you that to only attend those two services, Palm Sunday and Easter Day, is to forego not only the difficult story and raw emotion of Holy Week but also the hard road of Lent.   I hope you feel sufficiently chastised. 
I have admitted to many of you that I miss the intensity and devotion of the Lenten season—the extra Wednesday services or study, the sobriety of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, the heightened devotion of the Easter Vigil, which all drew me through to Easter Day in a way that felt more whole and real and right.  My first communion was on Maundy Thursday so it always had powerful meaning for me.  My pastor typecast me as Judas on Good Friday so I enjoyed staring at congregation members before my part to unsettle everyone.  And I remember always signing up for the Easter Vigil for times at dusk so I would go into the church building with the light of day fading and come out into the black of night.    All of that seemed to help me live the story of Lent.  My hometown pastor made each one of those studies and services special and original. 
As a result, I took great pride in making mid-week Lenten services special and original.  I have oodles of material and preparation I have put into Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil.  But, as with my colleagues, the number of people attending what people used to tell me were the most meaningful services of the year, that number has dwindled to next to nothing.  What is going on with that?  I believe we are all profoundly spiritual beings looking for profoundly spiritual experiences.  What is going on?
I think we are all gassed.  I think we are all too pooped to pop.  We are exhausted with all of the distractions placed before us . . . to the point where we give up trying to participate and collaborate.  We end up believing the only thing available to us is to be entertained.  As a result, we give our opinion and lose our voice.  We share how many stars without being subjects of our own story line.  We complain about the bleak outlook for the future without asking what movement or struggle would call our hearts to quicken.   Climate change leaves us feeling helpless.  The present political climate makes us feel useless.  And colds, flus, and winters that never let go push us right up to the edge of feeling hopeless. 
Into this morass of helpless, useless, and hopeless, many of you have asked me what to do.  And I’m sure I’ve told many of you to check your Sabbath rhythms and practices.  How do we get intentional solitude that then balances you to re-enter back into community?  How do we get moments of rest where we can turn our brains off and soak in the goodness God intends for us?  How do we key into moments of communal celebration and play that energize us? 
French sociologist  Émile Durkheim, referenced these times as “collective effervescence.”  They are times when we come together in joy or in pain to participate and collaborate.  When we do so, we are excited and energized for the work that needs to be done and develop a broad sense of how deeply we belong to each other.[1]  Durkheim saw this happening in religious faith.  But I think it is something that has become evermore rare in our communities of faith.
How do we make part of our regular week moments of solitude so that we can plug back into community life?  How do we program into our day times of rest so that we can bask in love intended and therefore see both work and rest as gifts?  How do we make part of our consistent rhythms communal celebration and play so that there are times of collective effervescence that electrify us, animate us, and send us back into the world with renewed hope and transcendent courage?
Jesus is coming to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Passover.  As Ed shared in the introduction to the story of Palm Sunday for today, the Passover was a meal to remember God delivering the Children of Israel from slavery and oppression.  It was a time when the community came together in participatory celebration of who they were as a people.  That identity is also tied up in a familial event where children are encouraged or prompted to ask questions and play choreographed games.  Non-Jewish guests are often welcomed. 
Passover lends itself to the idea that the Jewish people collaborate with God in their deliverance.  They are active participants.  Some tellings of the Passover encourage participants to lounge as they share in the meal to convey a posture of rest and ease.  In other words, not the posture of a slave like they were in Egypt, but of free people who have the opportunity to rest and celebrate.  Passover is a celebratory rhythm for the Jewish people, a spiritual practice which reminds them that God intends liberation, good questions, rest, play, and celebratory participation. 
Contrary to what all that seminary scolding taught me, I want us to take a collective breath around Palm Sunday and just hold it right there.  Let’s not move on to everything else that is going on in Holy Week.  I see Christ intentionally basking in a moment of collective effervescence.  He planned for it.  Biblical scholar Ched Myers calls what Jesus did political street theater.[2]  He sends his disciples ahead to talk with people Jesus knows have that colt or donkey for him to ride into town on.  There is a sense of humor or sarcasm to what he does.  He knows he is flipping the script on Pilate’s entrance into Jerusalem on the other side of town.  The people collaborate in the celebration with him by putting palms down, an ode to when Simon Maccabeus rode into a free and liberated Jerusalem. 
It was Jesus’s way, right?  Jesus did not point to himself.  Jesus was always pointing to the people around him and lampooning Rome by referencing the consistent communal celebrations with his followers, as God’s empire.  After all, he was called a glutton and a drunkard—a sense that the authorities thought his social play and celebration went too far or crossed too many boundaries.  Jesus regularly sought participation and collaboration that led to a collective effervescence long after he was crucified and dead.
It is God’s way.  God calls for our collaboration so that we might do on earth what is regularly done in the heavenly empire. 
If this church is to make the turn and follow God’s leading, we are going to have to intentionally build in rhythmic moments that lay the groundwork for collective effervescence. 
I am sure I have repeated this story but I want to share it with you again so that you might see and know what is possible.  I am the facilitator for Sanctuary Rising.  But it was this summer, with me on vacation (Hmmm, maybe that had something to do with it), when Immigrations and Customs Enforcement changed the check-in time for Audemio Orozco-Ramirez and Billings Sanctuary Rising responded.  I believe Dan Cohn and Emma Kerr-Carpenter were pivotal in calling people in such that when Audemio arrived for his check-in, 35 people were there to accompany him. The picture of all those people, as I look at that, it is just darn glorious.  I believe Immigration and Customs Enforcement was ready to deport Audemio on that day but blinked because of the engagement, the participation, the collaboration of people on that day.  Even better, that group of people decided to throw a party knowing that they were not helpless, useless, or hopeless.  More people showed up for the party . . . which included the celebrated Sister Helen Prejean.  It was one of those moments of collective effervescence. 
Now, we know that the Domination System sometimes hits back even harder after we have shown ourselves to be collectively faithful.  That was true for Audemio.  But how can we not look out on the incredible pilgrims who turned out yesterday all over the world to say that it was time the violence of the Domination System come to an end?  It was those Marjory Stoneman Douglas students who took their trauma and said they were no longer going to be an audience but participants and collaborators in creating a brave space for transformative justice.  In so doing, they also called others in, they stepped aside and gave their platform, as good allies, to people of color so they could also be collaborators and participants.  Yesterday was a day of collective effervescence that called on all of us to stop waiting for the world to end, stop relying on the people in high offices to save us, and stop opting out of those moments that could very well lead to our own collective effervescence.
Yes, Christ ends up crucified at the end of this week.  As Art Dewey shared with us during the Jesus Seminar, crucifixion was used by the Romans to not only to liquidate Jesus but, by creating so much trauma and so much a sense of hopelessness, that the crucifixion would liquidate his memory too.  That did not stop his disciples.  For Jesus had told them that it was not about him.  He was not God’s Empire.  They were.  In their moments of collective effervescence the celebration of Palm Sunday translated into an Easter Day which confounded the Domination System and kept the memory of Jesus and his ministry alive.  Pay attention to our sabbath rhythms, but on this Palm Sunday, I call us to especially pay attention to our rest, play, and celebrations.  For our rest, play, and celebrations give us the energy and electricity to walk the hard road of our lives so that we will never, ever be stopped.  Praise God.  Amen. 


[1] “What is collective effervescence,” wiseGeek, http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-collective-effervescence.htm#didyouknowout..   
[2] Ched Meyers, “PALM SUNDAY AS SUBVERSIVE STREET THEATRE: SIXTH SUNDAY IN LENT (MK 11:1-11),” RadicalDiscipleship, March 26, 2016, https://radicaldiscipleship.net/2015/03/26/palm-sunday-as-subversive-street-theatre-sixth-sunday-in-lent-mk-111-11/.


First Sunday of Lent, "Strong back, soft front, wild heart", dialogue sermon with Lisa Harmon


B Lent 1 BFC 2018
Mark 1:9-15; Mark 4:24-25
February 18, 2018

Scripture:  
Mark 1:9-15
In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.  And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the skies torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him.  And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  And the Spirit immediately threw Jesus out into the wilderness.  He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by the Adversary; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.  Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God,and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the Empire of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the good news."

Mark 4:24-25
And he said to them, “Pay attention to what you hear; the measure you give will be the measure you get, and still more will be given you. For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”
         
Research professor, wisdom-giver, and author, Brené Brown, shares what she considers to be the elements of what it means to remember that we belong to one another—a strong back, a soft front, and a wild heart.  Having a strong back is to speak truth to b.s. while at the same time being civil.  Having a soft front has to do with our deepest need—to be seen by other people, to really be seen and known by someone else.  But we’re all so armored up these days, armored up to the point where there is not a chance on God’s green earth that we can be seen.  We need a soft front to be seen.  Finally, to remember that we belong to one another, we need a wild heart, a heart that lives between the paradoxes and the tensions of grit and grace, tough and tender, excited and scared. 
In Christian spirituality, the three basic values are intention, balance, and freedom.  These values reflect what it means to be wild at heart.  For we are not caught slavishly reacting to whatever the world throws at us.  Rather, we intentionally and creatively choose the right amount of grit or grace, toughness or tenderness, excitement or fear.[1]  Our balance between those tensions does not allow us to get knocked off our pins.  We use these paradoxes as tools, with a freedom that calls for just the right amount in any given situation.    
          We all have that fundamental need to belong.  And to remember that we belong is to be wild at heart.  “Wild” comes from that word “wilderness.”   Lent is the invitation to walk in the wilderness, to put down the extra baggage, because it just might kill us, if we try to lug it around.  The wilderness is the place where the sources of life and sustenance are foreign to us.  So we will have to whittle down, figure out what our core values are, liberate our attention to discern what really matters.  We will have to develop mantras to repeat over and over, as a contrast to what the world tells us about who we are and to remember that we do belong.    
Every year the Revised Common Lectionary has us reading the follow up to Jesus’s baptism by John the Baptist.  Every year, on the First Sunday of Lent, Jesus walks out into the wilderness for 40 days.  This is a not-so-disguised replay of the Children of Israel walking out into the wilderness 40 years after they left bondage in Egypt.  In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is thrown out into the wilderness by the Spirit.  The Greek word[2] is the same one used to describe Jesus throwing out demons from the occupied and colonized Jewish people throughout Mark. 
Seemingly, by the spiritual force of the Spirit, Jesus has no choice.  As we all do, Jesus must make his way through the wilderness.  It is a divine journey.  For in the wilderness, we learn the rules for how we are to live in the Promised Land.  Every year Lent comes around and we practice living in this stark landscape, this extreme place, to learn of God’s presence and our own power.  What are those mantras we will repeat over and against the imperial narrative?  In her spiritual practice, Lisa brings forward some of the mantras that work for her. 
At this point, Lisa Harmon begins preaching. 
We may believe we walk in the wilderness alone, but the wilderness is not loneliness.  Loneliness is driven by our lack of authenticity, and our authenticity sometimes requires that we jeopardize our connection with other people to say, “I disagree.  That’s not funny.  I’m not on board.”  Those who have the highest levels of belonging in the world show up, knowing that we stand alone in our values at times.  For when we stand up against something we do not think is right or for something we know to be right, we are connected to every other person who has made the journey through the wilderness.[3]  In the wilderness, we learn to imitate the wild heart of God, unbound, unfettered, and unattached to the imperial narrative.
The wilderness creates a moment of beholding.  Beholding is where we learn to pay attention for the first time.  The wilderness forces us to take account of our lives.  Instead of being caught up in schedules, rushing around, and deadlines, we come into the present moment and stop.  And now we look.  What is the opportunity in the given moment?  Now with this beholding, we see the opportunity in the given moment.  We are called to do something with this opportunity.  We avail ourselves of the opportunity and we go.[4]   
The wilderness is the call to fast from anything that is not rooted in love.  In Lent, we are to develop our spiritual practice of fasting.   What we give attention to grows.  What we pay attention to grows.  So let our self-imposed wilderness be a spiritual practice of not giving our attention to those things, as Adrienne Maree Brown writes, that are “other people’s cycles, their mistakes, lies, or ignorant projections, or the domination cycles of those who measure their humanity in false supremacy.”[5]  Let us fast from those things.  Rather, let us bring our attention, let us shine sunlight on everything we want to see grow.  Right now our world requires “a shift from individual, interpersonal and inter-organizational anger towards a viable generative sustainable systemic change.”[6]  Anger and violence seem to be the only tools we have as we walk into the wilderness.  And we need something more.
How do we get there?  How do we start with ourselves and this community of faith in Billings, Montana, so that we might all have a strong back, soft front, wild heart, and remember that we belong to each other?
Lisa Harmon finishes the sermon. 



[1] “strong back, soft front, wild heart:  conversation with Brené Brown,” OnBeing, February 8, 2018, https://onbeing.org/programs/brene-brown-strong-back-soft-front-wild-heart-feb2018/.
[2] ekballw (ekballw)
[3] “strong back,” Brown.
[4] “The Anatomy of Gratitude:  Interview with David Steindl Rast,” On Being, January 21, 2016, https://onbeing.org/programs/david-steindl-rast-anatomy-of-gratitude/.
[5] Adrienne Maree Brown, “attention liberation, attention reparations,” October 28, 2017, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2017/10/28/attention-liberation-attention-reparations/.
[6] Adrienne Maree Brown, “what is/isn’t transformative justice?”  July 9, 2015, http://adriennemareebrown.net/2015/07/09/what-isisnt-transformative-justice/.

Sermon, Year A, Second Sunday of Advent, "We need a story that saves us"

A Advent 2 ColPaul AL 2025 Matthew 1:1-17 December 7, 2025           I wanted to offer a trigger warning this morning knowing that we...