When I first heard the poem, “Looking
for The Gulf Motel” by Richard Blanco, I fell
in love with it. Each time I read it, I
hear the deep grief and romantic love for a former time. It is the loss of not only former time, waxing
nostalgic, but also for a father too-soon lost, a longing for that time, a time
that reminds someone of their childhood, however imperfect. The
remembrance of this past brings with it memories of care and familial love and
a special time on vacation. These
memories come with insider, devotional language, rites, and rituals. “Looking for the Gulf Motel”:
“Marco Island, Florida
“There should be nothing here I don’t
remember . . .
“The Gulf Motel with mermaid
lampposts
and ship’s wheel in the lobby should still be
rising out of the sand like a cake decoration.
My brother and I should still be pretending
we don’t know our parents, embarrassing us
as they roll the luggage cart past the front desk
loaded with our scruffy suitcases, two-dozen
loaves of Cuban bread, brown bags bulging
with enough mangos to last the entire week,
our espresso pot, the pressure cooker–and
a pork roast reeking garlic through the lobby.
All because we can’t afford to eat out, not even
on vacation, only two hours from our home
in Miami, but far enough away to be thrilled
by whiter sands on the west coast of Florida,
where I should still be for the first time watching
the sun set instead of rise over the ocean.
“There should be nothing here I don’t
remember . . .
“My mother should still be in the kitchenette
of The Gulf Motel, her daisy sandals from Kmart
squeaking across the linoleum, still gorgeous
in her teal swimsuit and amber earrings
stirring a pot of arroz-con-pollo, adding sprinkles
of onion powder and dollops of tomato sauce.
My father should still be in a terrycloth jacket
smoking, clinking a glass of amber whiskey
in the sunset at the Gulf Motel, watching us
dive into the pool, two boys he’ll never see
grow into men who will be proud of him.
“There should be nothing here I don’t
remember . . .
“My brother and I should still be playing Parcheesi,
my father should still be alive, slow dancing
with my mother on the sliding-glass balcony
of The Gulf Motel. No music, only the waves
keeping time, a song only their minds hear
ten-thousand nights back to their life in Cuba.
My mother’s face should still be resting against
his bare chest like the moon resting on the sea,
the stars should still be turning around them.
“There should be nothing here I don’t
remember . . .
“My brother should still be thirteen, sneaking
rum in the bathroom, sculpting naked women
from sand. I should still be eight years old
dazzled by seashells and how many seconds
I hold my breath underwater–but I’m not.
I am thirty-eight, driving up Collier Boulevard,
looking for The Gulf Motel, for everything
that should still be, but isn’t. I want to blame
the condos, their shadows for ruining the beach
and my past, I want to chase the snowbirds away
with their tacky mansions and yachts, I want
to turn the golf courses back into mangroves,
I want to find The Gulf Motel exactly as it was
and pretend for a moment, nothing lost is lost
I want to find the Gulf Motel exactly as it
was. My father should still be alive,
slow dancing. Ugh, the pain of
that. The longing of that. We can hear the loss, written in such
romantic, devotional language of an adult reflecting on his 8 year-old
memories.
The Gospel
of John is written with similar intent and language. Many of its verses have been translated so
literally that the beautiful, poetic devotional language is lost. “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the loving Creator but through
me.” That language is not to be
understood literally, but out of deep devotion to a way and path with a
singular and exclusive will.
I
have used this example before to talk about when spiritual language is
devotional and how, when we take it literally, we miss the point of beautiful,
devotional language. Let me give it
another try. If I had a southern friend
who, in reference to two people who were wildly, romantically in love, said
“She’s so crazy about that woman, it’s like she hung the moon.” And I said,
“Oh, I don’t think his ladder would reach that high.” Imagine the reaction I
would get . . . .
For the
author of the gospel of John, the language of discipleship is the language of
deep devotion. The Gospel of John is written to people who
are forming their faith in the face of tremendous persecution and are pulling
on the collective memory of a time and a leader who brought incredible life to
communities in rural Galilee. And that
language of devotion is necessary, the Jesus in John believes, to make sure
disciples of Jesus hang in there as they see their Jewish sisters and brothers
experiencing the tragedy and trauma of torture and death. Hopefully, romantic, poetic, and devotional
language keeps you hanging in there, even remembering that the leader of your
movement went through shameful torture and death at the hands of the Romans.
What we
see too often in the evangelical churches, however, is this romantic language
taken literally with no understanding of its context. That language propels people within the
evangelical tradition forward with great power, gives them energy for their
faith and tradition. But the other side
of that is when Evangelical leaders and churches speak with romantic,
devotional, and poetic love about their relationship with God and their church--many
times absent of critical thought that might bring balance and grit to faith—their
faith takes on the character of a lovesick, adolescent school-boy who does not
have the maturity or the experience to know something deeper.
Many of
these leaders and churches are in love with being in love. Living with our heads swimming in the clouds
can be a powerful thing. But lyrical,
romantic words and even deeds cannot alone be the substance of faith and
should not leave us in the romantic past.
Our feet must also be rooted in the realities of the world and must be
moved to look for how God is moving far out into the future.
Progressive
Christianity brings a needed critical analysis to faith that reminds us that
day to day life can be hard and difficult and even gut-wrenching. Our
faith tradition seeks to be rooted in the realities of the world. But our tradition also needs balance. Sometimes we fail to interpret our tradition
poetically, devotionally, romantically, in a way that gives us energy and a
touchstone for power in the future. We
fail to be romantic about the church, but for its past, and therefore make it
impossible to go forward without any passion and courage.
All of
that good stuff in the church happened in the past. So we long for that, hope for a comeback, without recognizing that the
Gulf Motel is no more. We need to be
speaking that romantic language into being for what we do now, for what might
happen into the future.
As people
of a progressive faith, shared faith can become so highly critiqued that it
just becomes a downer. As with any real
loving relationship, both romantic discourse and honest appraisal are needed to
help it go forward. Our faith should be
mediated between head swimming, heart passionate, and feet rooted.
The Scripture passage before us today is part
of a longer narrative called the farewell discourse. It is Jesus, knowing the end is near, trying
to express the relationship he has with God, he has with the disciples, and, by
extension, the relationship the disciples have with God. The author of John uses romantic, devotional
language to figure out the relationship between God, Jesus, and the disciples. This resurrection appearance is also trying
to help the church move on to a time without Jesus to what community life can
be in the future.
On into
the next chapter of John’s gospel, Jesus tells the disciples that he is one
with God and God is one with him. He
implores the disciples to be one with him by referencing God as the
gardener. Jesus references himself as
the vine and the disciples as the branches.
They are to stay joined to Jesus so that they might bear fruit. Jesus
recognizes the organic unity—the interconnected relatedness between God and
himself. He belongs to God and God
belongs to him. As the disciples follow,
love, and abide in Jesus, they belong to Jesus and Jesus belongs to them.[1]
Last week
I was honored to be a part of a group that beautified the church with other
church members. So many people
participated in the two church rummage sales that raised money for the life of
our church. And this church continues to
minister to its community by offering a powerfully different gospel that what
one might hear anyone else. Two of our
church members spoke truth to us about white supremacy. And through February we learned significant
dates in Black History. People walk and
raise money for hunger issues locally and halfway around the world, food is
boxed for poorer folk in our community, care packages are provided for migrant
farm workers, drivers are being organized to get undocumented people to needed
appointments, plans are being made to see if we can bring refugees or asylees
to this area with Berrien Immigrant Solidarity Network, and children made
cupcakes to raise even more money to support the people in Ukraine. Why would this community of faith want to
return to the past when what is happening now and being planned for in the
future is so powerful? We have five
young girls who are regularly reading Scripture, speaking prophetic truth, forming
their faith every week. And we hear the
voices of our children reminding us that God loves fun and play and
goodness. As rapper DaBaby said, “We
need to lace our shoes for all the blessings we are chasing!” We need to stop seeking out all of our
meaning looking for the non-existent Gulf Motel!
Several
years ago, I was privileged to hear Rev. Dr. Ivy Beckwith speak. At the time, she was Faith Formation Team
Leader at the national offices of the United Church of Christ. Rev. Beckwith defined forming faith as teaching
our people to “love God and follow and live in the way of Jesus.”[2] I really loved one of the particular ways she suggested
we might help our children form their faith.
She told us to do something radical in front of our children and then
tell them we did it because this is what people who love Jesus do.
Beckwith
went on to describe five different characteristics of a faith community that is
helping its members to form faith. The first characteristic is that we are
aware of how we tell our own story. We
tell our story with intentionality and that story shapes our future vision and
action. That story informs our plan for
the future.
The second
characteristic of a faith community that is helping its members form its faith
is that it is missional. We do not do
things just to serve the people inside our building but our community is
present out in the wider community and the wider world.
Third,
such a community is intergenerational in its mutual gifting. Seniors expect to receive as well as give to
our children. Children develop an
expectation of giving as well as receiving to seniors. As noted theologian John Westerhoff has said,
we do things “with” children and youth and not “for” children and youth. We are mutual in sharing our gifts.
Fourth,
the community is trustworthy. Decisions
are made in open and transparent ways and ministry is dependable. Is leadership predictable and ethical in
their decision-making? Are they actively
seeking ways to make sure that bullies do not carry the day in the midst of
conflict? Also, do people arrive on the
scene thinking that ministry or events are to happen only to see them delayed
or cancelled? Expected meetings happen with regularity.
The last
thing Rev. Dr. Beckwith considered to be important as a characteristic for a
positive faith-forming community, the one that undergirded all of the rest was
“belongingness.” Not only was an
atmosphere of belongingness important for the more senior members of the church
but also for people who were new arrivals and the people who have not even
darkened the door of our church. Our
church sends vibes out into the community that we want, we invite a sense of
belongingness. New arrivals to the
congregation knew and sensed that people in the church wanted them to share in
decision-making, share power, and be safe as they explored what it means to
belong. One of the more important
questions Beckwith asked was, “How are we helping our children, youth, adults,
and seniors have relationships with one another? How are we building relationships across the
generations?”
As you all
decide later today whether to retain me as settled pastor of this blessed
church, I pray these five characteristics will be important for being a center
for spiritual formation in our community.
Jesus told the disciples, in his relationship with God and with them, “Peace,
I leave with you.” That peace is not as
the world gives full of hierarchy, winning, and conquering, but a peace which
says, “We belong to one another.” We
belong to one another.
That is the devotional, romantic, critical, gritty, and sometimes messy language I want us to remember as or if we move forward together, not for a romantic past but for a rooted, romantic future. As God belongs to Christ and Christ belongs to God, so we, as Christ's disciples belong to Christ and to God. We belong to one another. This is how God us--as woven together. And unless we quickly return to this deep, poetic understanding of the universe, we are doomed.
I belong
to you. You belong to me. We belong to this community. And it belongs to us. We belong to God’s good earth. We belong to God and Christ. God and Christ belong to us. I belong to you. You belong to me.
We may
remember the Gulf Motel. We may grieve
the romantic past that was once the church.
But we do not need to look to it for a church community where memories
and blessings are being made, discovered, and experienced every day.
The
reality is, there are powerfully rooted and romantic things happening right now
at Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ. They are things that no church, small or
large, should be able to accomplish unless Christ’s peace moves with, through, and
among them. Sometimes it happens because
children know they are valued and treasured in the midst of us. And, as a result, we hear those same children
laugh, we see them run, and they then speak their truths to us on a regular
basis. Sometimes it happens because we
are willing to mourn what we once had knowing that the still-speaking God and
the peace-loving Christ have ever more blessings awaiting us. We belong to one
another. Amen.
[1]
David Ewart, “John 14:23-29,” Holy
Textures, http://www.holytextures.com/2010/03/john-14-23-29-year-c-easter-6-sermon.html.
[2]
Here are the elements as Beckwith shares them:
1) Move away from “Aesop Fable-ization” of the Bible; 2) Stop
segregating the generations; 3) Develop worship found meaningful across
generations. 4) Help parents be the
spiritual nurturers of their children and develop a Christian family identity; 5)
Teach our youth to speak “Christian”; 6) Allow the theological voices of
children and youth to be heard; 7) Do church “with” not “for”;
