Earth Day

Showing posts with label Ellen Davis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ellen Davis. Show all posts

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Sacred Place Worship Series 6, September 18, 2016, "The Sacred Place of Emergence"

Sacred Place 6 BFC 2016
I Kings 19:5-18
September 18, 2016



          One of the things I try to do as a parent is to allow my kids to watch whatever media and entertainment they find interesting as a form of trust.  At the same time, I try to balance that with listening to and watching the media and entertainment with them.  I do that as a form of interest in their lives, a way to engage in conversation with them, and also a way to share my values with them.  I am really lucky to have children who may make fun of me at first, but care enough to then want to get my opinion.  So it was that my youngest son, Abraham, kept telling me that I needed to watch the HBO series, “Game of Thrones” because he thinks it’s the bees’ knees.  I wasn’t so sure when I saw a single episode saturated with such violence. 
          But then President Obama, at the Media Correspondence Dinner, a dinner where he is expected to show off his sense of humor, made a “Game of Thrones” reference, “Kahleesi is coming to Westoros”, and it drew the biggest laugh of the night..  So I knew “Game of Thrones” had become a cultural reference I had to learn to become part of the conversation. 
          “Game of Thrones” is really about who shall sit on the iron throne in Westeros.  I think the show works because everybody can pick a different person or family to root for.  Will the iron throne be controlled by the wealthy Lannister family, who, with Machiavellian precision, destroy their enemies and, in so doing, find themselves also destroying their family?  Does Stannis have the bloodlines which suggest he should be the rightful ruler on the iron throne, ordained by the god of light, and achieved through blood magic?  Should it be the Stark family and the person of integrity and courage, the bastard John Snow, resurrected from the dead by the Red Woman?  Or perhaps it shall be the strong young woman who begins with no army, no ships, not much that would recommend her to sit on the iron throne, Daenerys Targaryen? 
I can imagine that for many strong women, Daenerys Targaryen, her full name Daenerys Stormborn, First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of Mereen, Queen of the Andals and of the First Men, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, for many strong women, she is they person they root for.  All of those titles reference what Daenerys has been through as naïve teenager to emerge as a confident young woman.  So the reference made during President Obama’s speech was Khaleesi is coming to Westeros, a reference to Hillary Clinton’s claim to the White House.  I know.  I went a long way for that one. 
           In this last season of “Game of Thrones”, Daenerys has been demoted in the city of the Dothraki.  She comes to the ceremonial center of the Dothraki, a strongly patriarchal culture, where she listens to the insults of all the men who think of her as weak and worthy of their threats of sexual violence.  In return, we can see that her transformation is complete.  She knows who she is.  She confidently tells them that they should worship her as their ruler.  Then she begins to calmly turn over the fire pits in the ceremonial center.  The men try to flee but the doors have all been jammed.  You see, Daenerys, is the Unburned.  Fire does not
Daenerys emerging from the fire unharmed.
harm her.  And she emerges from that fire, where people were threatening the end of her life, having transformed herself from a young, naïve woman to someone supremely confident in who she is as a rightful leader.  That Dothraki ceremonial center becomes a sacred place of emergence.
          With no less violence, in the Biblical story, Elijah has the prophets of Baal slaughtered after he shows how jealous he is on behalf of God.  No word yet on whether this slaughter was something God required of him.  And the word is sent that what he did to the Baal prophets, Ahab and Jezebel will certainly do to him.  Having proved that God is real to the people but not so confident about whether God will protect him, Elijah goes off and asks God to end his life.  He is sullen.  He is depressed. He is ready to end it all.  He is given food for his journey and he ends up on the mountain of God inside of a cave.  There he has something new to learn. 
          A strong wind, an earthquake, and a fire appear in all their violence.  But God is not in any of these three.  He comes to the mouth of the cave.
 Then comes what some translations refer to as “a still small voice”, another “the sheer silence”, and the Scripture Emma read for us to day, just “Thin.  Quiet.”  There is still violence in the world, God seems to be saying, but nevertheless,  the nonviolent God’s purposes are being worked out.  “So, Elijah, figure out your purposes for why you are doing things in the world and then go do these things that I tell you.” 
          Caves are those broken circles that connote sacred places of emergence.  For the ancient Maya people, they were considered their worship centers.  You enter in.  You are beckoned into the womb of a cave.  You emerge transformed by the experience.  Perhaps what Elijah is asked to remember is the very values that defined his God over and against the god of commodification, profit margin, and commerce.  For later on in the story, Elijah confronts Ahab with the death of the farmer, Naboth, and the values of the Living God in regards to land and sacred place. 

o   God owns the land.
o   The land is not for sale.  (You and the Land are one.)
o   The land is given for the shalom of the whole community (Shalom meaning peace, wholeness, connectedness).
o   Keeping the land in the “family” keeps the community free.
o   The land can be redeemed to avoid debt slavery and provide sabbath
o   The land requires rhythms of Sabbath and rest.

The god of commodification, profit margin, and commercialism tends to suck the sacred right out of sacred place.  Rather than asking questions about the holy, the mysterious, and how we are to emerge from a sacred place transformed, with this god, we ask the cost, the return, and the yield.  The place does not act on us, has no value in its own right.  Rather, it is an object from which we suck all of its marrow, extract all of its resources.  Then, we too, show ourselves to be objects ourselves, vampires who are just looking for where we can find blood next. 
For many people in our community the beginning of another school year has begun.  I think what we would hope for all of our young people is that they might experience school as one of those places of emergence.  It was Simone Weil, French political activist, philosopher, and Christian thinker, who believed a particular attention to study, would train us for patient, attentive prayer, help make school as a place of emergence.  Weil believed that this attention to study was not about scanning a subject or mental concentration that effectively tuned out distractions.  Rather, it was a receptivity or an openness to manifestations of truth.  Attention to study, as a spiritual practice,  is a waiting, a fruitful inactivity, an anticipation that truth would come—“a hungering for truth and hopeful expectation of its arrival.  The attentive person’s waiting is laden with the desire that her intelligence bear fruit.”[1]  We may grind, and wade through the monotony of study for a long period of time, Weil believes, but eventually, through our attention, a light bulb comes on and we emerge from the material with connection and understanding and a sense of the broader whole.  And in that moment, school becomes a place of emergence.
If not voluntarily, a person’s attentiveness is sometimes sharpened out of necessity or tragedy or devastation.  Dr. Cornel West believed that white folk in the United States had a chance to emerge from the tragedy of 9/11 with a greater understanding of the world because that calamity, in one fell swoop, might have brought attention to a bigger vision of the world and its suffering and death.  Much as the calamity of slavery made the African-American people attentive to all who sing the blues, white America might go through the grief process in a way that opened them to the suffering of the world.  Instead, West argues, our grief process was short-circuited by an authoritarian anger that immediately demanded revenge.  And we refused our own transformation, resisted emerging from our pain with greater understanding. 
In talking to a parishioner some years back about sacred places of emergence, he related one of the most amazing stories I have ever heard.  He related that he was on board a submerged nuclear submarine just off the coast of the Scandinavian countries when the power went out on the
sub.  Everyone on that submarine knew what that meant—they now had one hour of oxygen left.  He told me that it not only sharpened his attention in that moment but far out into the future.  He promised himself that if he emerged alive from that submarine he would learn every nook and cranny of a nuclear submarine so that he would never, ever be in that position again.  And his promise change the course of his life forever. 
We certainly do not want to create unbidden moments of sacred place like that for ourselves or our children, but how do we provide the cues for sacred places of emergence in ways that welcome them in?  How does our congregation become a sacred place of emergence? 
As I shared, caves have, mythologically, been seen as sacred places of emergence.  And the story of Elijah emerging from the cave contains all the elements.   Among the Native American Navajo people, the Hogan, sometimes a home, sometimes used as a ceremonial center for spiritual
practice, is a cue for a sacred place of emergence.  The Hogan is that broken circle, facing east to greet the sun, so that the entire earth might be seen as a sacred place of emergence.  Every day the Hogan cues the Navajo people to come out to the golden sun—the place of renewal, wisdom, sacred power, and the road to life.  The Hogan invites people to not only greet that new day but to be that new day.
In Christian tradition, the labyrinth, of course, is that broken circle that calls us into the center and then spins us back out into the world transformed by the pilgrimage.  It was the pilgrimage Malcolm X took to Mecca that radically transformed his life.  Malcolm X began his pilgrimage believing that white people and black people could not live in community.  He walked in to see people of all colors journeying in that pilgrimage to Mecca.  He emerged from that pilgrimage with a broader understanding of our kinship as a human community.
Ok, so I want to share the elements of a sacred place of emergence but then I’m going to turn to you to break into groups of three or four to talk about what your historical places of emergence have been and how our church might organize or construct itself so that we might become a better sacred place of emergence.  So be thinking about that as we go through these elements.
So here are the elements of what it means to be a sacred place of emergence:
o   Calls us in to call us out.  Womb-like.  And the womb can often be messy and feel like a very safe and dangerous place all at the same time.  We are held. But something new and transformative is about to take place.

o   May be a safe place that leads us out to a place of new wisdom or learning about God, yourself, and/or the world.

o   A place that gives you energy for new tasks or new adventures.

o   Can be a scary place in that once you are there, you are being prepared for something new or transformative.

o   It can be a journey or a pilgrimage to a particular place, a path we walk that we know will help us discern where and how God is moving and calling us out.  We listen for this call because, as Joan Chittister writes, we are all called.[2]

o   Sometimes we only know that place of emergence when we have been devastated or the rules we thought governed life don’t fit.  Much like Elijah experienced, his world turned upside down by the realization that his life was not as charmed as he originally thought, or that God did not act in the world in the way he thought.

o   It is a particular place that allows us to see the holy everywhere.  As Biblical scholar, Ellen F. Davis has said, “If one place is sacramental, then perhaps every place, provided we learn to revere it, may yield access to grace.”[3]

So what are our sacred places of emergence?  Or what is your story about
a sacred place of emergence?  And how could we provide cues to make Billings First Congregational Church a place at the ready to be a sacred place of emergence? Let’s take a minute to meditate on that and then I would like you to gather in groups of three or four to answer these questions. 
          For you, it might never mean that Khaleesi is coming to Westeros, but I hope our church might always be a place that helps you develop the attentiveness to know your power and believe that God is doing great things through you in the world.   Even today, transformation has begun in you.  May the God of the still, small voice, the sheer silence, the thin quiet, call you in and call you out to your life’s journey.  Amen.




[1] Bradford S. Hadaway, “The Education of Attention,” in Attentive Patience:  Christian Reflection:  A Series in Faith and Ethics (Waco, TX:  Baylor University, 2016), pp. 29-30.

Monday, October 5, 2015

Creation Communion Liturgy (annotated)

Introduction
Saint Francis of Assisi reminds us that our common home, this earth, is like a sister with whom we share our life and a beautiful mother who opens her arms to embrace us.[1] 

Our most sacred act is a sharing of the earth from a Creator who is Soil, Wind, Underground Stream, and Fire.   And our mythology tells us that we, humans, were created from fertile soil[2] (adamah) and holy breath (ruach). 

In the book of Job, God reminds Job in his long-suffering that he is not the center of all things.  God reminds him that he is small and part of something very large and beautiful and that should be enough. 

We become most human when we don’t put ourselves at the center of everything.[3] 

The Story of God
One:  God is the fiery life of Divine Essence.  God is aflame beyond the beauty of the meadows.  God gleams in the waters and burns in the sun, the moon, and the stars.[4]

All:  All living creatures are sparks from the radiation of God's brilliance, and these sparks emerge from God like the rays of the sun. 

One:  But if God did not give off those sparks, how would the divine glory become fully visible?

All:     For there is no creature without some kind of radiance - whether it be greenness, seeds, buds, or another kind of beauty.[5]

One:  I, the highest and fiery power, have kindled every spark of life.  I, the fiery life of divine essence, am aflame beyond the beauty of the meadows, I gleam in the waters, and I burn in the sun, moon, and stars. With every breeze, as with invisible life that contains everything, I awaken everything to life.

All:     The air lives by turning green and being in bloom. The waters flow as if they were alive. The sun lives in its light, and the moon is enkindled, after its disappearance, once again by the light of the sun so that the moon is again revived.

One:  And thus I remain hidden in every kind of reality as a fiery power.  Everything burns because of me in the way our breath constantly moves us, like the wind-tossed flame in a fire.[6]

Invitation
One:   Let us gather around the table to remember our spiritual roots in Christ and to tap into the strong sap of the Holy Spirit.  We have been waiting, O God, for this meal as we wait for so much. 

All:  We come to the joyful feast hungry for blessing and thirsting for peace—peace across our planet in our homes, in our churches, and in our hearts.  Struggling to be patient, we wait.   But we know.  Hope doesn’t come from calculating whether the good news is winning out over the bad.  It’s simply a choice to take action.[7] 


Communion Prayer of Challenge and Consecration
One:   Author of creation, we are a mere piece in nature’s puzzle, but we act as if it is ours for the taking.  If we listen, we can hear your creation groaning in agony and crisis.  If we look, we can see the dire effects of our carbon addictions and deforestation. If we search, we can find heaps of our toxic waste being dumped among the world’s poor.  Through our sins, daily and systemic, we estrange ourselves from you and the rest of creation.

All:  O God of all kindness, your gracious gifts demand a responsibility that we all too often neglect.   We confess that we have held you at a distance, resisting and ignoring your will in our lives.  We have denied your goodness in each other, in ourselves, and in this world you have created.   We use your beautiful world for our selfish gain and forget to see you in it.  We throw creation away day after day.  We repent of the evils and oppression we participate in, knowingly, half-knowingly, and unknowingly.    Holy One, forgive us.[8] 

One:  So with unimaginable threats to God’s good earth on the horizon, we celebrate what hope looks like—to do the unreasonable thing, the courageous thing.  With countless lives on the line, in the sharing of these basic elements in neighborliness, this is what love looks like.[9]

All:  We must hear the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor.[10] 

One:  Gracious God, forgive, restore, and strengthen us through Jesus Christ. 

All:    Guide us by your creative Spirit into more faithful lives of grace, solidarity, and commitment to love and justice.  Let us live our vocation to be protector of your handiwork.[11]  Amen.

The Elements
Our most sacred meal is a sharing of the earth--bread, a mixture of earth, seed, sunlight, water, and the kneading of human hands.  In the sharing of the earth, may we know ourselves to be a part of something very large and beautiful. 

(Distribution of the bread) 

Take and eat.  May the earth once again feed and nurture you.

Our most sacred meal is a sharing of the soil--grape, a mixture of soil, vine, sunlight, necessary pruning, and the right amount of pressure and time.  In the sharing of this soil, may we know ourselves to be a part of something very large and beautiful.

(Distribution of the grape)

Take and drink.  May the soil once again quench our thirst for justice and righteousness.

From this holy meal, we remember that the earth is our bones, the body, that gives form and content to our breathing, our walking, our dancing, and our celebration.  

*Prayer of Thanksgiving 
This bread we have eaten comes from the earth.  The wine we have tasted comes from the soil.  Thank you, God, for sharing it all.  Help us to lend our voice in caring for Earth.  Help us to see the birds of the air, the fish of the water, the plants and animals that live with us as part of our communion in your love. In Christ’s name, we ask it. Amen.[12]
*Passing of the Peace
Hear these words, a 2000 year old quote from a Jewish rabbi,
The day is short,
the task is abundant,
the laborers are lazy,
the wages are great,
and the Master of the house is insistent.
It is not up to you to finish the task, but neither are you free to desist from it.[13]

And we will only finish this task through our spiritual practices of neighborliness and community.  Let us begin to practice by passing the peace of Christ to one another.  Amen.




[1] From the Papal Encyclical
[2] Ellen Davis
[3] Bill McKibben
[4] Hildegard of Bingen
[5] Hildegard of Bingen (4.11)
[6] Hildegard of Bingen (Vision 1:2)
[7] Anna Lappe’
[8] Rev. Dr. Rochelle Stackhouse
[9] Tim DeChristopher
[10] Papal Encyclical
[11] Ibid.
[12] Rev. Richard Bott
[13] Bill McKibben

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