Religion and Fly Fishing
Between Two Worlds Day 37 (of 40)"In our family, there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing."
That is the opening line to Norman Maclean's movie A River Runs Through It. I was pondering Dee and Dave's responses to my post yesterday--Dee beautifully describing a mystical faith where she feels no separation or division "between two worlds" and Dave who shared that he felt some momentary guilt for not being in church on a Sunday morning when he realized that he was actually sitting in God's cathedral while fishing at Lost Creek in its unadulterated splendor.Both of the posts forced me to name more precisely the source of this nagging between-two-worlds feeling. Both Dee and Dave expressed beautifully that they have found a way to integrate the many experiences of their lives in such a way that the "oneness of God" is felt equally both inside and outside the church walls. In their own ways (actually Dave more literally) they have made real Norman Maclean's profound statement that in his family "there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing."
The line reminds us that union with God and participation in the Sacred Rhythm doesn't just happen when sitting on hard pews, singing the doxology and praying the Lord's Prayer; God can just as easily be experienced and found wading waist deep in a frigid river, pounding the pedals up a mountain pass, or pondering a sunset over a meadow erupting in wildflowers. The line reminds us that all good religion should be as soulful as a fly fishing expedition and that all fly fishing is as sacred as stained glass windows adorning a church entrance.So why, if the Divine Presence can be found in all places and in any place, do I continue to wrestle with this "between two worlds" theme? It has less to do with my personal life and spirituality and more to do with my professional calling.Like Dave I treasure my experience of God both when I am riding my bike through a canyon and when I am singing "How Great Thou Art" with a hundred other faithful voices. I can bridge those two worlds easily in my own mind and heart. I also have enough religious training to recognize that Dee, Dave, myself and many other readers have been describing the return to our mystical traditions (even if the word mysticism makes them nervous!). In many ways what is happening right now is not a new thing, but a return to a very old thing. John Shelby Spong would say that we are finally correcting a detour that Christianity took 1600 years ago when our faith became more doctrinal and lost the experiential core of it.Dee and Dave hinted and even suggested that there doesn't need to be two worlds and a wall of separation between the experience of God while kneeling in church and the experience of God while kneeling in front of a recently caught four-pound rainbow trout. I agree.There doesn't need to be two worlds, but not everyone who hears the sentence, "there was no clear line between religion and fly fishing" immediately say, "Oh, I so get that!" In fact, some even find it threatening and I have the scars to prove it.In some ways this theme "between two worlds" is about bridging the gap between those who see very little difference between religion and fly fishing and those fish on Saturday and pray on Sunday.
A Little Lenten Slip up
Between Two Worlds Day 36 (of 40)How many days did you go before tripping up on your Lenten journey? I am not sure how many of you still honor that tradition of giving up something for Lent--be it chocolate or smoking or swear words. Traditionally, Christians have either given up something as a form of penitence (I like to say that it is making room for God) or added a spiritual discipline.
This year as I feared the voice that emerged during my last pilgrimage going underground I committed to blogging every day of the 40-day period of Lent which runs from Ash Wednesday through Easter, excluding the Sundays. Although I had a number of days where I nearly broke my discipline it wasn't until this past Sunday where I was forced to choose between sleep or writing. I chose a glorious night of sleep! But I now have to live with a not quite so perfect Lenten commitment.I might have chosen to slow down the pace of this blog series a couple of weeks ago. I could feel myself honoring it as a discipline even as my soul was hinting that maybe it was time to slow down. And I began to feel that my posts were actually running ahead of your ability to read them. It occurred to me that you, my readers, probably had your own lives and that my posts weren't the center of your day!
But as we near the completion of this "Between Two Worlds" Lenten-themed conversation I want to say "thank you." Six weeks ago I could feel that voice disappearing that was so clear as I rode out of Thessaloniki along the Aegean Sea on my Rome to Rumi pilgrimage. The demands and the concerns of the institutional church were pushing my other voice aside.I do love my work and I am uniquely qualified and professionally well-situated to walk with congregations experiencing transition, conflict, decline, and organizational grief. But there is a fresh new world emerging that I can't quite yet see, but have tasted. Like a good drug (of which I am too much of a goodie two shoes to have ever tried) that gets imprinted into our memories, my soul yearns to get its next fix of those rich mystical, God-experiences that often get lost in the corporate life of institutional church.
I say thank you because in your listening, your responding, your honesty and your vulnerability I have found a way to balance and attend both to my emerging voice and my love of transitional ministry. Our conversation has included those who of you who have a deep commitment to the church. There have been respondents who either left the church or who never grew up in it. Some of you have flirted with both sides of that line having left the church and come back with a new set of eyes and a softer heart. And some of you have a very well developed spiritual worldview that is completely divorced from anything we might call organized religion.But I say thank you to you because this is a gift to me. I remember years ago telling a congregation that I believed that the future of Christian community wasn't going to be either the church, as we know it, or the emerging forms of spirituality. I said that the future of Christian community, I believe, will come out of the conversation between the two. I still believe that and what we have going on here are the kernels of a conversation and a reformation that will only continue to grow in coming years.I neglected my blog post yesterday like a smoker who snuck one cigarette or a sugar addict who couldn't resist the candy bowl this one day during Lent. We are in the final week of Lent where the narrative of winter and spring, death and resurrection, and dead bulbs and erupting flowers plays out. I will continue to blog on this "Between Two Worlds" theme the rest week (unless, of course, I falter again!) and then slow it down to a pace that both you and I can keep up with! I don't want to lose the freshness, the honesty, and the vulnerability of our conversations.For now, though, let me express my gratitude for your part and your help in the recovery of that voice that was so fresh and clear eighteen months ago as I rode along the Aegean Sea toward Istanbul and the home of Rumi, the Sufi mystic poet.Thank you. I believe we are part of what is and what is to come.
What Do You Really Feel?
Between Two Worlds Day 34 (of 40)"I want to know what you have to say," writes Jen who reports that she goes to church. I believe that she is a member of the church where I am currently the interim pastor.
Her comment gives me an opportunity to reflect on this "Between Two Worlds" theme. She is clearly responding to my post where I said that I feel that my voice over the years has become more constrained in the pulpit. I can clearly point to the change. Over the years I have felt this subtle shift where the sign of good sermons was not theological integrity, but whether there were "more butts in the pews" as a former elder used to put it (or fewer people were exiting the pews!). Based on that reasoning it appears that the quality of preachers has fallen--vast percentages of churches are in decline which can only mean one thing, right?! Seminaries just don't put out good preachers anymore!Jen also added, "I would love for you to preach a few sermons on how you really feel and not what you think the congregation would be comfortable with..." And this is where it is really important for me to make the distinction between feeling constrained and preaching "how I really feel." Because the fact of the matter I do preach what I really feel each Sunday.
All preaching is done in the context of a relationship. It is contextual. It is like the difference between talking about sex with your teenager and talking about sex with your best friend. They are two completely different conversations. Your teenager doesn't need to know the juicy details that you share over lunch and drinks with your best friend. The teenager has one set of questions that has to do with boundaries, safety, health, consequences, etc. Your friend is wanting to share the intimacy and trust that goes into a best friend relationship. Same topic; two very different conversations.One of the things that I have been clear about in my relationship with my current congregation (of which Jen is a part, I believe) is that I am speaking to two very different communities. My preaching is to a congregation in a specific part of Oregon, in a very specific time of transition, with a very specific set of questions and concerns, with a very specific age and theological demographic, and in a very specific evolving denomination called Presbyterian. My blog is to a community of people all across the nation who are exploring the next great emerging form of spirituality and religious community.
The two are asking very different questions. One wants to know how they are going to get new people, pay their bills and survive for another generation. The other is asking what the future looks like and how do we get there. One prefers to hold onto what they have; the other has or is ready to let go of what was in order to welcome what will be.Personally, I wished that the Church was making the latter question a higher priority. But that is not my call. As an interim pastor I am like the counselor who simply creates the safe space for a congregation to tell me what's important to them. My role is not to impose a future on them, but to gently invite them into the future of their choosing. The fact of the matter is thousands of churches are now finding themselves asking, "How are we going to survive?" rather than "What is our mission to the community and to the world?" Of course, I don't blame them. It's a little hard to think about serving the community when you are worried about keeping the doors open. Isn't this human nature? I would be hesitant to volunteer my time at a free meal program if I was hungry myself or couldn't afford the gas to get there. Nonetheless, I wished congregations were less worried about staying open and more focused on what God had in store for them next.
To Jen I would reassure her that I am saying what I really feel from the pulpit on Sundays. My point is that my prophetic voice is expected from my readers, but can be a threat to my congregation. Preaching always occurs in the context of a relationship. If I don't take enough risks in my blog I lose my readers. And if I take too many risks in the church I lose my congregation.Two different communities. Two different conversations. Two different kinds of work. Both of which I love and both of which I believe exist under one Sacred Canopy.
The Loss of the Prophetic Pulpit
Between Two Worlds Day 33 (of 40)After many weeks of thought, yesterday I finally stepped into the moral and political fray that is now our run-up to the election of a new president. I hesitated especially because when I speak I never only speak for myself. As an ordained minister my views will also always be seen as representing the Church to some extent or another. As readers pondered and opined about our current state of political theater/reality TV one reader asked, "One has to wonder, what does the Church have to do with all of this?"
Yesterday when I wrote I wasn't sure exactly why in my blog themed "Between Two Worlds" I felt compelled to reflect and write on the phenomenon we now know as Trump. Today as I pondered Sylvia's question I was reminded almost immediately that it has been the slow erosion of the power of the pulpit that propelled me to my first pilgrimage and subsequent blogging.It would be a gross generalization to say that this is true for all churches. However, one of the clear trends that I have experienced is that as churches have declined and become concerned about survival they have abandoned their commitment to the prophetic voice of the pulpit. A pastor dare not offend 10-15% of pledging members in a church where just surviving year to year is the top priority.In many ways my blog is my attempt to have the freedom to restore the power of the pulpit where I can speak freely, truthfully, and as prophetically as the times call for. I believe this is one of those times.Below is an excerpt from my book ALONE: A 4,000 Mile Search for Belonging where I first acknowledged the shift in the power of the pulpit (you can order that book at http://www.pedalpilgrim.com/book). I was raised in a time when the Church was the moral pulpit and voice for the community. To be a pastor meant to speak to the broader society and act as America’s conscience. That had changed. Now to be a pastor means to speak only to the religious faithful. My obligation was no longer to the theological integrity and voice of ministry; my obligation was now to those who paid my salary, whose greatest concern was how to save the Church, pay the bills, and meet the pastoral needs of those sitting in the pews. I had finally remembered. I got into this preaching business because I was moved by the faith and commitment of religious leaders who used their theological ideas to serve humanity. Somehow, over the years, the pulpit had turned into a voice-box for the religiously faithful—and somehow I’d got caught in that shift. I believed in the power of the pulpit, but now the pulpit was owned by those more concerned about the survival of the Church than being the conscience of the community. Page 297
Playing My Trump Card
Between Two Worlds Day 32 (of 40)I don't know if I am diverging from my Lenten theme or not. But I find myself compelled to use my voice--as pastor, writer, blogger, spiritually sensitive person, American, and world citizen--to raise my concerns and alarm over the mobilization of the Trump army. I have thought long and hard about this for many weeks. As a pastor I feel strongly about that uneasy alliance between faith and politics. On the one hand, my Christian faith compels me to promote the values that I believe a morally healthy society requires. On the other hand, I generally draw the line at endorsing or denouncing any particular candidate.
But I believe that we are playing with a completely different animal here. The fact of the matter is Trump hasn't given me enough of a picture of his political platform for me to either agree or disagree with him. This isn't about denouncing him for policies that I feel will not be best for America. No, this runs much deeper than that. If I disagreed with his policies, but found that he was playing by the rules of democracy and political dialogue I could easily retreat to my usual rule--preach about values without telling people how to vote.I need to be honest here. I am truly alarmed about the growing momentum of Trump-ism. Here is my concern. Trump has refused to follow the rules of a presidential candidacy. During the debates he repeatedly interrupted other candidates when he was challenged, yet he had that nasty double standard of raising his hand when others attempted to interrupt him, sternly firing back, "Excuse me, I am talking right now." Unfortunately, the debate moderators were either unwilling or unable to stop him and he was able to dictate the tenor of the debates. And he has made being a playground bully into an adult art form.
But the real concern is this. I am not seeing any sign that this man will graciously accept defeat, if and when that comes. Today he is beginning to set the stage for his army of supporters to go into full riot mode if he doesn't get his way. He is warning us that if he has the most delegates going into the convention, but is denied the nomination that he fully expects there to be riots. He knows exactly what he is doing--giving permission for his followers to resort to violence while claiming that he himself does not endorse it. It's like letting your pit bull loose in a mall and then saying, "I didn't bite anyone!"It is looking entirely possible that he may win the Republican nomination by completely legal means. But if that happens and he loses to either Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders will Trump finally bow out respectfully? Will he stand before his followers offering a graceful concession speech saying, "We fought one hell of a fight. We may not have won, but we certainly sent a message to Washington." I hope that he has someplace in that twisted soul of his to bow to the majority vote, if and when it comes. I hope that his ego can take a seat for just a moment and let the will of the people dictate our future.I am seriously concerned though. I have seen no signs of his ability to do this. What will he do if he loses the presidency, but he also has 50 million people who are angry as hell and who want to "make America great again." Will his ego allow him to tell his followers, "Let's get back to work and try again in four years." Or will he gather his growing army and tell them, "Let's show America who is boss. No one tells me I am a loser!" So far the latter seems to fit his character better.I am not sure what all this has to do with our conversation on the theme "Between Two Worlds" except that the pulpit has always been a place where truth could be spoken. No matter what other competing interests there were the rest of the week, for twenty minutes on Sundays, the pulpit was reserved for "hearing what God has to say to us today." And my emerging work is largely about honoring the language of the soul--and quite honestly my soul is feeling violated, threatened, scared, and mobilized.Will Trump make America great again? Or will he make himself great on the backs of women, immigrants, the disabled, Muslims, refugees, and losers like the rest of us.We need to be careful. We need to be watchful. We need to be ready.
Official Book Launch! Yippeeeeee!
Between Two Worlds Day 31 (of 40)
Alone: A 4,000 Mile Search for Belonging is now available!
After four and half years since that incredible little bike ride around the West, three different church positions including three moves, and eighteen months of writing, rewriting, and rewriting again I am pleased, proud and relieved to announce that the book is available.ALONE chronicles my 4,000 mile bike ride through Oregon, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, and California in 2011 as I sought to reconnect with the people and the places of my past after three devastating years of personal and professional loss. It captures my grief, my struggles and my discoveries as I sought my place in the world again.You can order the book by going to http://www.pedalpilgrim.com/bookThank you all for your support, patience, and belief in me. A special thanks goes to the people of Eastminster Church in Portland who took this pilgrimage with me in their hearts.
DIY Religion (Part 2)
Between Two Worlds Day 20"If I have to have a label..."Evonne's response to my post from yesterday about the expanding and changing labels that we use to describe our religious identity forced me to write the second half of my post.
Over two years ago I wrote a letter to the editor in the Eugene Register about the religious labels we use to define ourselves. The impetus for the letter actually originated six years prior when I was first signing up for a Facebook account. The profile page asked for my religious identity and I immediately recoiled. I realized that the most obvious choice would be to simply write in Christian. I am a Presbyterian pastor. I was baptized. I regularly participate in the Lord's Supper and I do have a thing for this Jesus character. Christian made the most sense.But I wasn't able to simply write in Christian. I knew what I meant by the term, but I had no idea if others would put me in the Jerry Falwell camp or the "I can't wait to save you" crowd. I spent a full six months working out a label that would more accurately pinpoint my actual Christian faith. I came up with the agnostic Christian mystic.But Evonne's comment reminded me that my letter to the editor actually began with the values that I identity with. It only ended with my own little identifier after I said, "But we live in a world that needs labels and if Facebook says that I have to have a label THEN I would be comfortable saying that I am an agnostic Christian mystic."The truth is I too am uncomfortable with having a label at all. For those who need and want a label I have found a way to fill in the short blank that calls for something slick and clean. But the truth is I am identifying myself more by the values that have emerged from my Christian faith than by the pithy label that I have worked out for myself.If the world needs a label I would be willing to tell you that I am an agnostic Christian mystic. But at my funeral what I really want to hear is that Brian was a man of compassion, honesty, truth, abiding presence, wit, grace, strength, perseverance, faith, and curiosity. Don't say that I was a Christian. Say that I tried to live like Christ.Thanks Evonne for the reminder!
DIY Religion
Between Two Worlds Day 29 (of 40)
If I heard the comment right I think the Rev. Deborah Wright said, "Where I live in Marin County (just north of the Golden Gate Bridge) all the Jews and half of the Christians are also practicing Buddhists. They don't see a conflict between the two." One would have to check the actual statistics to see how close to the truth that is. But Deborah, I am sure, was not trying to convince us of a certain percentage. Rather she was making the point that we are entering a new world where the lines between religions are dissolving away.I am still thinking about the presentation I attended on Friday on adaptive change as it spoke directly to my Lenten invitation to explore the theme "Between Two Worlds." I once had a person observe that my sermons have occasionally highlighted some of the similarities between religions. He wanted to know when I would preach on what was distinct about Christianity.
The comment reminded me of the battle over the Black Lives Matter slogan. Folks have cried out, "Shouldn't the slogan be 'All Lives Matter?'" Of course that should be the underlying assumption and goal, but isn't it interesting that it takes a "Black Lives Matter" protest to get us to say "All Lives Matter." If we who are white had been the first to stand up and shout out "ALL LIVES MATTER! ALL LIVES MATTER!" in response to the imbalance of arrests and incarcerations of African Americans it would have been heard differently. But only in response to the Black Lives Matter movement it sounds like we are once again being defensive and just not getting it, STILL!!!But I digress...only slightly. My questioner wanted to know when I would preach on what was distinct about Christianity in response to the occasional sermons that highlighted the similarities between religions. My thought was, "Well, that's what you get the other 45 weeks of the year!" I don't have to yell "Christianity Matters" every week. That's the working assumption as soon as you walk into a Christian church.But the truth is the language, spiritual practices, beliefs, traditions and histories of other religions are sneaking their way into my sermons and writing more and more--almost by osmosis. The lines are dissolving whether I like it or not.
Deborah says in her area that it's more likely for someone to say they are Buddhist Christian than to claim being Presbyterian Christian or Episcopal Christian. For those of you who have read my blog for quite some time, you know I have been working with the quirky combination of "agnostic Christian mystic"--blending my ongoing openness to the "I don't know" of faith, my Christian values, and a preference for the experiential side of faith found in mysticism.Quite honestly, even as anxious as I am about my livelihood in this time, I am almost giddy about what is emerging. As a pastor, I just can't wait to provide space for people to explore, affirm and name their own unique, particular and quirky faith. I want to help you come to that point where you will proudly say:"I am an evangelical Presbyterian pantheist?""I am a social justice-loving, born again Baptist?""I am a Star Wars influenced Christian with a Native American thread."It all sounds crazy. But part of the beauty of our time is that no authority (not even an ordained Presbyterian minister or a Catholic pope) can tell you what to believe. Even if we did, you would still believe what you wanted to anyway. Right?!Religion is slipping into DIY territory.
Noah and the Whale
A young man bent over a crossword puzzle yells over to the clerk at the Subway sandwich shop, “Hey Julie, blank and the whale?” Julie, who was making my sandwich at the time blurts back, “It’s Noah and the whale.” I nearly laughed out loud before catching myself and saying, “Do you mean Jonah and the whale?” “Oh yeah, that sounds right. Shows you how much I know,” she giggles. I give her a little education and tell her it’s “Noah and the flood or Jonah and the whale.”I just left a short presentation on adaptive change in our congregational and denominational worlds. I brought my failing laptop with me to begin my blog post before heading back into a full day of worship and meetings that will take me until nearly 10:00 p.m. I was just getting ready to sit down and write about what the presenters, Jim Kitchens and Deborah Wright, both Presbyterian pastors, had to say about how adaptive change models can help us negotiate from world to another. Then Julie blurted out “Noah and the whale” and made my point better than I could about the changing world.Jim used a wonderful analogy in his part of the presentation. He explained that just a few years ago (I’m being very kind!) he played high school football. He said if you want to understand what adaptive change is like imagine playing football for a full half and then heading into the locker room to rest and re-strategize for the second half. Then imagine that your team runs out of the locker room and you discover that the football field has been hydraulically shifted and the lines repainted to now serve as a baseball field. You are still playing ball. You are still on grass. You are still entertaining a stadium of spectators, but everything else has changed. There are nine players to a side rather than eleven. The ball is more like an orange in size rather than a misshapen watermelon. And now there are nine innings rather than four quarters. Plus the uniforms are less like armor.Sometime in the last forty years we went in for half time and came out and the world was different. Shoot! Even the young people don’t know that it was Jonah that got swallowed by the whale rather than Noah. Didn’t Julie know that Noah had a big fish tank on the ark with both a boy and girl whale in it swimming around in circles in the cramped space? I swear, these young people don’t know anything! The church went in for halftime and came out and the field was different and the rules changed.But I loved Jim’s image of the football field and the baseball field. Both are sports. Both use grass fields. Both use balls. And both are entertaining unless it’s the Oakland Raiders, of course. Eighteen months ago I did a spiritual pilgrimage that I titled “From Rome to Rumi.” That is exactly what I was doing—traveling between two religious worlds that are about the same business, but look and act very differently. This Lent I am working with the “Between Two Worlds” theme. It’s just the thing that is in the air these days.This is my commitment to you. I will continue to go back and forth between the football field and the baseball field until we all know how to play the new game. I will continue to cross back and forth over the bridge that both separates and connects our traditional religious institutions with the re-emergence of religious mysticism and emerging spiritualities. Shoot—I’ll even build an ark and give Jonah and the whale their own room, if I need to.
A Sign from God (or just Walter?)
Between Two Worlds Day 27 (of 40)
A quote from RUMI on a Christian Church street sign? There is hope yet!Actually the accompanying picture was sent by Walter, a former member of Eastminster Church in Portland, Oregon—the church I was pastor of that technically closed but has lived on under a new name and resurrected ministry. I am tickled at the idea of a Christian Church quoting a Sufi Muslim mystic from 800 years ago. More than that, I took it as a personal message:“Keep going Brian. Trust the process. You are producing fruit, even if you don’t get to see it.”Years before I helped the congregation erect that sign never imagining that one day a quote from Rumi would be broadcast to the 25,000 drivers per day that pass by.I certainly can’t claim too much credit for the theological direction of Parkrose Community United Church of Christ (http://www.parkroseucc.org) where my former Eastminster members continue to go to church and call it their own. But I do wonder if laid the groundwork for it happen. Years before the 2012 closure and legacy deal I taught a class titled An Introduction to Christian Mysticism. Partnered with that class I preached on a handful of different mystics from the pulpit introducing the congregation to St. Francis of Assisi, St. John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila and Thomas Merton, to name a few. I remember when one person came off the street because of this sign mentioning Thomas Merton. A few weeks later she joined the church.
We didn’t make the language of mysticism a big deal. But I do remember that both conservative and liberal members were able to relate to the experiences that were the source of mystical writings. Three years later I took my slightly over-ambitious 4,000 mile cycling pilgrimage around the West. For the first time in my life I found myself writing about some of my experiences using the poetic imagery of mysticism to capture my experiences. Simple descriptions weren’t enough to describe playing with God in a lightning and thunderstorm or standing far above Lower Yellowstone Falls and wanting some way to become one with the violent rush of water. My head told me it was foolish. My soul wanted to feel what the water felt.But PCUCC saw an opportunity and Eastminster, I believe, was ready to invite another group of faithful spirited Christians to take the reins of the church. Nine months later the deal was done. Eastminster officially closed, but the community lived on in a new form.
Since then I have continued to explore this return to/resurgence of religious mysticism that I believe will eventually become our common language again. I preached another series on the Christian mystics in my next church, then went on a pilgrimage to visit the site of Rumi’s Tomb in Konya, Turkey, and have flirted with some mystical themes in my current church. But honestly I have sometimes wondered if I am speaking in an empty canyon where my words echo on forever but no one but me actually hears them. Or I wonder if people hear the words, but they fall flat like well-spoken French that sounds lyrical but no one actually understands.So for now I am going to take the picture of the sign that I helped erect, in front of a church that once I pastored, for a community of people to whom I introduced mysticism as a personal message from God (or Walter) that says, “Keep going Brian. Trust the process. You are producing fruit.”A Christian Church quoting a Muslim poet and prophet? Maybe there is hope for us yet!
Book Announcement #2
Between Two Worlds Day 26Dear Readers,
The book is coming, I promise!We weren't satisfied by the quality of print on the first version. We receive a second hard copy proof from the printer/publisher on Friday. Keep your fingers crossed. Any day now (really!).Below is the book description that will go on Amazon.com. Full details will be available the hour it comes out.Amazon DescriptionIN 2011, PROPELLED BY A GROWING sense of dread, Brian Heron embarked on an epic 4,000 mile bicycle adventure through some of America's most challenging terrain. A series of personal and professional losses left him feeling that his world was crumbling at an alarming rate. His wife of twenty five years had suddenly left one night. Eighteen months later his mother-in-law, with whom we was especially close, died after a four year struggle with dementia. A year after that his stepmother died unexpectedly during a routine, but risky open heart surgery. If that wasn't enough he was leading a church through a process of closing and putting in place their legacy in the community. He was working himself out of a job. In a short period of four years both his personal and professional life were disintegrating like a sand castle facing high tide.Replacing Forrest Gump's running shoes for a bike, he felt compelled to set off. Searching for a feeling of belonging he decided to return to the towns, to the people and the places that had shaped him. He would return to the town of his birth, Bozeman, Montana, where his parents had divorced and his mother disappeared from his life. He would spend a few days in the town of his childhood, Loveland, Colorado, that was the source of his most formative years and painful memories. He would ride through his old college campus where his life most made sense, if only for a few years. And he would return to Northern California where most of his adult life took shape with family, theological education, friends, and serving the community in various capacities.Along the way he would pedal across the rugged Rocky Mountains of Colorado, survive the lonely and desolate desert of Nevada in the heat of August, and negotiate his way through the jungle of California freeways. He would find himself in the belly of the whale in a drug-infested, paint peeling, shitty motel feeling completely alone and abandoned by the world and God. He would battle thunder and lightning storms, 100 degree heat, cars and semis, an especially bold buffalo, and his own personal demons. He would face the truth of his life, the reality of his dissolving profession, and the losses that life had thrown onto his path.New York Times bestselling author of the William Shakespeare's Star Wars Series, Ian Doescher, writes of Brian's book, "Alone is a compelling journey of personal discovery, religious questioning and spiritual awakening. At times deep, at times sad, at times funny, Heron invites the reader to ride along each day of this remarkable adventure. When it's over, you'll feel each of the 4,000 miles in your own soul."Join Brian as he follows the pilgrim path on an adventure of personal healing, the renewal of strength and hope, and the rediscovery of his unique place in the world. Take the journey with Brian, look into the pages of your own life, and learn to honor the wounds and the delights of your own yearning soul.
The Languages of Love...
Between Two Worlds Day 25 (of 40)
"Nobody really believes she’s an ordained pastor in the ELCA. Maybe it’s the sleeve tattoos or the fact that she swears like a truck driver. Either way… she’s fine with it."
That is a quote about the Reverend Nadia Bolz-Weber, a Lutheran pastor in Denver. Two weeks ago I was teaching a class on "The Revolution of Grace" and I read a whole chapter of Nadia's book Pastrix to the class. It's a great story of redemption, grace in action, and a modern extension of Jesus' preference for the outcast and discarded of our society. Nadia spent her early adult life on a path of self-destruction, a fact that she was aware of and wore proudly--that is, until she discovered that her drinking wasn't any more adorable than the other alcoholics in an AA meeting that she had been invited to.But there was a problem with the story. While I believe that she tamed her language down a little for the book, there was still enough in there to make me nervous about shocking my Presbyterian faithful. Hers was an authentic story of gospel redemption, but would the language be a barrier to hearing it, I wondered. I was thankful when after reading some sections where she said fuck and bitch that my class didn't march me straight out into the parking lot and pull a Trump on me by taking my coat and leaving me shivering in the cold. Actually the group handled it pretty well. But a few people wondered whether her newfound faith had really taken. If she was serious about her faith wouldn't she also have cleaned up her language? was the question.
This interchange was on my mind all day today as I thought about my post from yesterday when I talked about some "crazy shit" in the Bible. I have been around enough teenagers and young hip adults to know that for them that off color combination is just a fun way of saying, "That's some pretty outlandish claims there!" But I also have been around enough good Presbyterians who are often a generation older than me to know that a swearing pastor is an oxymoron. The two just don't belong in the same body.The truth is I don't lace most of my conversations with four letter words as if a sentence isn't really complete without them. But I do lace a blog here and there with a little well-placed profanity when it naturally pops into my mind, I think it will have a little stronger impact and will connect with those for whom profanity is as common to them as it is for the swearing, tattooed good reverend, Nadia Bolz-Weber.I write this today because I spent the day worrying that the casual use of profanity may have pushed a few of my readers too far. For those who get the whole "crazy shit" reference I felt really good about my blog. I let them know that I too didn't have rose-colored glasses on when it came to scripture and that the Bible must sound pretty wild and far fetched to the casual reader. Yet I think I made my case that its very outlandishness is what convinces me that there is a God-experience hidden in there. Its crazy claims aren't a reason to dismiss it, but rather to take it even more seriously than ever. I love this crazy...well you know what I mean.
I am reminded again in this "Between Two Worlds" Lenten conversation that bridging that divide is very tricky. Nadia Bolz-Weber tells an amazing story of redemption yet her own street language is a sign to some that she hasn't really gotten the whole Christian thing yet. It is as if she "got saved" yet never said goodbye to unredeemed life. Yet to her own people her rather unpolished language is probably a gift rather than a barrier. Her new found master's level, seminary sophistication could be as offensive to her clan as her street mouth might be to my Presbyterian clan.I live somewhere between these two worlds. Every blog post is an attempt to build a web of understanding and connection between the people of the institutional church and the people "on the loose" who are experimenting, exploring and adopting emerging forms of spirituality. I want to build bridges. But I worry sometimes that in my attempts to speak to people on both sides of the river bank that all I am really doing is getting all wet.
The 'Crazy Sh--' Hermeneutic
Between Two Worlds Day 24 (of 40)I couldn't believe the thought that came into my head this afternoon. Once it grabbed a few brain cells I couldn't get rid of it. Carley had asked me to say more about preaching using the mystical lens. My Bible professors would either be rolling in their graves or it would quickly send them there if they heard me say this. But the thought that wouldn't go away was, "Carley, I've gone to using the 'crazy shit' hermeneutic."
Let me explain. No matter how you slice it there's a lot of crazy stuff in the Bible--virgin births, burning bushes, seraphim and cherubin, people floating up into the sky, and corpses coming back to life. I have never taken the Bible very literally. Even in my early days of weak sophistication I didn't know how to read these stories, but I also was skeptical enough to wonder about their factuality--which shouldn't be surprising as I grew up with an engineering father.Eventually my wondering gave way to more certainty as I began to read the Bible more metaphorically. That satisfied my rational side while also giving me a way to speak to the spiritual realities of our lives. No, Jonah wasn't really swallowed by a whale, but who hasn't experienced trying to run from God (or Life) only find that God has a way of marching you right back to where you started! That's preachable!Preaching metaphorically worked for me for a long time. I didn't have to take texts literally in order to still ask the question, "What is God's message to me and to us here?" It didn't really matter whether I took the Bible at face value or read it metaphorically. The same question applied in both cases. But what both had in common was the belief that God was saying something to us through the text. I haven't abandoned this, but it's shifted.A few years ago my basic question changed. I started asking, "What was the experience behind the text that inspired the writers to come up with a bunch of crazy shit?" In my early years the crazier the stuff the less believable it was. The more outlandish the claims (think of the six-winged winged dragons of Revelation) the more I had to dig to find the message in the writing. I found myself avoiding the crazier-sounding texts.But about twenty years ago I had my first of a handful of mystical experiences--experiences where I got lost in nature, or an experience, or even another dimension. I have never been able to describe those experiences adequately. I am usually at a loss for words with regard to them. I know the feeling. I know it's true, but finding the words to describe these rare occurrences is almost impossible.
The best I ever came up with was how I described an experience in Greece where I was climbing a mountain trying to outrace a nasty thunderstorm as the sun was disappearing. At one point I stopped as I rounded a switchback and the sunset looked at me directly and without words just said, "I am honoring you tonight. You are strong and beautiful." I heard her silent voice clearly. Later as I wrote about it, all I could say was that the "sunset was bowing to me as much as I was bowing to her." It makes no rational sense and trying to convince someone else that the sun actually singled me out to bow to me would be an exercise in futility. Yet no one will ever convince me otherwise that that night the sunset and I exchanged a knowing look. We were both beautiful and took a moment to acknowledge that and bow to each other.
I share this because those mystical experiences have changed me. I see in the Bible the same struggle to find words for an experience that isn't really meant for words. How do you explain that in Jesus you actually see the face of God? How do you write about the fact that Jesus just keeps showing up even though he was certifiably dead?More and more I don't look for what God's message is to us in a Biblical text. Rather I look for the mystical, God-experience that must have been there for those writers to write all this crazy shit. The crazier the writing the more I find myself digging and trying to unlock the experience behind the text like searching for hidden treasure. The crazier it is the more I am convinced that something mystical, miraculous, awe-inspiring, and life-altering has happened.I am no longer satisfied with just saying, "Here is what God might be saying to us." Now I want to use the preaching moment to give a little sample, a little taste, a small sip of God's nectar and hope that they will beg for more, much more, much, much more.
What a Trip!
Between Two Worlds Day 23 (of 40)A funny thing is developing. Ten months ago I took a new position in a church in southern Oregon in a congregation that had just emerged from a period of conflict and loss. I had just emerged from a period of unemployment. You will remember that my blog posts slowed to barely a trickle.There was good reason for this. This congregation didn't need any more controversy and I didn't want to jeopardize having a regular paycheck again. It felt good to pay for groceries with real cash again rather than food stamps.
But now nearly a year into this position an unexpected and funny development is emerging. I have shared with the leadership of the church that the most difficult aspect of the work there is preaching--not because preaching has always been a challenge for me (it hasn't, generally it's just a lot of fun), but because the diversity of the congregation finds me nearly every week trying to find something meaningful to say without losing people on either end of the theological spectrum. There is a soft split in the congregation on what we might term a fundamentalist/progressive continuum.In the early months I tried to preach safe sermons. You know what I mean--sermons where just about everyone could agree. Yes, God does love us all. Yes, no matter how much change there is in the world Jesus will remain central to our Christian faith. Yes, God really does want us to "do justice, act with kindness, and walk humbly before our God." (Micah 6: 8)But my energy to find neutral and agreeable sermons started to run out this last fall. (I am sure some of you are surprised that I could hold my tongue that long!). As I ran out of safe and universally agreeable sermons I found myself faced with how to preach to the congregation without splitting it. I knew that if I leaned too far one way or the other on the fundamentalist/progressive continuum that people would start falling off the boat with no one to catch them. The Catch 22 dilemma pushed me into a third direction unfamiliar to everyone (better to offend everyone than just one side!)My sermons have shifted toward preaching the Bible through the mystical lens--essentially all that means is that I seek to help people experience the Biblical text rather than just understand it or look for its meaning. I want people to feel it, taste it, desire it, and hunger for it.
And as I said an unexpected thing is happening. Nearly no one had much prior exposure to the language of mysticism, but they do know what it is like to experience God and to feel Christ's presence in their bones. They do know what it is like to experience a Sacred presence at the rawest and most vulnerable turns of life. I have a feeling that if I introduced mysticism as a concept, I would get a glassy-eyed look from some and a frown from others. But rather than teaching about mysticism I am just giving out little free samples. And a funny thing is happening--they are coming back for more.My journey toward religious mysticism has had many stages. But I am wondering if another stage is about ready to blossom. And for once, I wonder if it won't be another solo journey away from community, but this time in community and with community.What a trip this has been!
When the Song Sings Us
Between Two Worlds Day 22 (of 40)Most mornings I dedicate a good 45 minutes or so to some quiet reflection and writing. For the past few months I have been reading Mark Nepo's The Book of Awakenings, 365 short meditations. On Thursday I read one that really stuck with me. Here is one portion:
"Before we live what's next, it always seems like there is some answer we need to arrive at. But daring to enter, we are humbled to discover, again and again, that the act of living itself unravels both the answer and the question. When we watch, we remain riddles to be solved. When we enter, we become songs to be sung."
I took a big deep breath when I read that line, "We become songs to be sung." I think about where I was over twenty-five years ago when I first entered the ministry. I wanted to excel at playing the part of the pastor. It was a role in the community and I did the best I could not only fit into that role, but to play by its rules. The role had a set of responsibilities as well as boundaries. I had taken vows to serve in the capacity of a Minister of Word and Sacrament. In seminary I remember being told to be careful that we didn't put too much "I" into our sermons and into the role. Like soldiers, we were serving a greater purpose and personality had to take a back seat.These days I can't even tell the difference between my personality and my role as a minister. In fact I would hesitate to too narrowly define myself as a minister. Now I am some complex mixture of writer, pastor, community agitator, spiritual pilgrim, overly-ambitious cyclist, and blogger. And more importantly I feel that I am employing all the I-ness I have into my role. Instead repressing the "I" part of me to do the role I feel like all I have is "I". The role and my personality has melded into one.I write this because somewhere in the soup of the past two decades I went from feeling like the idea of playing a role dissolved away. Nepo's comment captured how I feel these days: "I feel like I am allowing myself to become a song that is sung." I am not even in charge of the song. Some spirit larger than myself is singing me. I feel almost out of control in the same way that a writer feels like the story is writing her rather than the other way around.As I thought about this subtle shift that has taken place I was struck by Nepo's comment that this feeling of becoming a song to be sung happens when we choose to enter life rather than just watching or observing from a distance. Observing is safe and sterile. Entering and engaging is risky and messy. It's one thing to approach life as a spectator; a whole other thing to step into the ring.What is worth stepping into the ring for you?What is so important to you that you are willing to take the risk to be hurt, to lose, to make mistakes, to look like the fool?
Duel Citizenship?
Between Two Worlds Day 21 (of 40)"I certainly do hope that your pursuit of adventures to the other world don't hinder or harm your brothers and sisters who love you so."That was the ending line to the most interesting response to my blog yesterday where I asked, "How Can I Serve You?" The thoughtful response also included a reference to C.S. Lewis's The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and Edmund's attempt to maintain "dual citizenship" in two worlds later regretting his desire to have a foot in both worlds and hurting his siblings.
I have been aware of the very tricky nature of trying to live in two worlds--the world of our tried and true church institutions and the world of emerging spiritualities. In fact nearly a year ago when I interviewed for the interim position I currently hold the one question I pushed them on was, "Are you sure that my blog and writing won't become a distraction to the congregation?" That was my biggest concern.My concern and awareness comes from my work in dealing with both individual grief and organizational grief. I know that my blog is about stepping into a new world--uncertain, untested, and unchartered. I also know that when I enter a church as an interim most churches are looking to recover a once glorious past. From the pulpit I am easing people through the initial stages of grief. But my blog is for those who have completed the grief cycle and are ready for the new life unfolding before them.I believe that this is where my reader is coming from--"Are the words in my blog going to undermine the faith of the congregation where I serve?" Believe me, I share the same concern.As a pastor who genuinely cares for people I often struggle with how shocking some of my words and thoughts must be to some people in the church. Plus, I can have a bit of a mouth at times which surprises people that the Good Reverend isn't so reverent!
But years ago I had to come to terms with whether I would spend the rest of my professional life helping churches cope with loss, decline and even potential closure. I have a background in hospice work as well as many years of teaching grief theory and practice in human services. In 2011, my 4,000-mile cycling pilgrimage through the western United States was specifically about that--facing the reality that the rest of my career would be some form of "congregational hospice work". I knew then that although my livelihood would continue to be in an organization that is dissolving away like a sand castle on the beach that my soul wanted more.So here is the rub. To my faithful reader it is not that I am trying to live in two worlds, as if I want to have my cake and eat it too. It's that my soul longs to be in the emerging world where there is a hopeful future. At the same time my need for a livelihood continues to draw me back into the traditional church world where I have well-honed gifts. I do love the work of walking alongside congregations as they face the reality of losses, an uncertain future and the grief associated with the passing away of a church form that has been dear to these people for a lifetime.In many ways I have been built for this. I lost my first mother at age three and my second mother severed our relationship in my 20's. I have lived with grief and loss for most of my life and have done the hard work to face it, to embrace it, and to relish the gifts that come from abandonment and loss. I went on to work as a hospice counselor and then as a foster care director working with youth who had experienced deep trauma and loss. I am tailor-made to do this work--no doubt about it!
But I am also human. Loss has come to define my life and my career. So, is it any wonder that my soul also wants to get to other side of the bridge where new shoots are peeking through the ground promising a blanket of colorful wildflowers and a canopy of young trees. I love my work, but my heart also longs for that feeling that teachers get when working with children where the future is all dreams and promise. Most of my work is about helping people and organizations "let go." I am good at, but there is a heaviness to the work.I should also note that it isn't as black and white as I portray it--that is, the church is one world and what is out there is another world, more promising and hopeful. I believe most congregations also have the potential of entering or inviting in the new world. But here is the deal. Until you let go of the past you won't be able to enter the future. Until you are willing to die, resurrection is just a fancy window display.I make it sound like the two worlds are those who are in the church and those who are not. I actually don't believe that. What I do believe is that there are two worlds--those who are willing to die in order to embrace a new and re-imagined life and those who will hold on for dear life and will just die.Jesus said, "Whoever wants to save one's life will lose it and whoever loses one's life for my sake will save it." I think he just might have been onto something!The truth is I don't want to straddle two worlds. I am not psychologically flexible enough for it. What I do want is to help people and congregations move from one world to the other. It's been my personal story. I want to help it become your story.
How Can I Serve You?
Between Two Worlds Day 20 (of 40)HOW CAN I SERVE YOU?
That is a question that we pastors learn to ask before we even assume the mantle of a church. Of course it may be that the call to serve is what drives us to become pastors rather than the other way around. The truth of the matter is that I was never called to serve the church. From the beginning I felt called to serve a deeper purpose and spirit that we often call God. It just happened to be that the church was the best place to do that, at least for a time.I used to say that I left the ministry for a time when I was referring to the period from 1997-2006. But later I adapted my story and said, "I left the pastoral ministry for awhile." I never left the ministry. I continued to serve, but my ministry was with hospice patients and their families, adjudicated adolescents in foster care and non-profit organizations.I don't think my call to serve will ever go away. It's possible that I might end up being employed in for-profit businesses at some point, but it would only be to support my real love--serving the community and recovering the language of the Soul in our public life.To that end I have a very practical request. I want to know how I can best serve you. Sometime in the next 9-18 months I am likely to finish the interim pastor position where I am currently employed (called). I know that I may need to transition directly into another interim position after that. But in the meantime I would like to develop as much of the Pedal Pilgrim work as I can. My dream would be to someday do this freelance work full time, but I am okay with whatever the gods have in store. Maybe I'll be able to get away with half time or three quarter time work where I can dedicate the remainder of my time to this passion that has a tight grip on me.But I need your help!Below are a few statements for you, my readers. Would you leave a comment or write me personally at brian@pedalpilgrim.com and tell me which statements or combination of statements apply to you. Or write your own little essay about whether I am going the right direction or not. Anything except staying quiet works for me! (If you want you can copy these into your comment and then check them.)I know what I can offer. I know what I want to do, but what I really need to know is how I can best serve you.How can I best serve you?___Please continue to regularly write your blog.___Please give me an opportunity to make a monthly pledge (see www.patreon.com) to support your creative work.___Please notify me of books write from your pilgrimages and soul work.___Please invite me to any retreats where you are listed as the retreat leader.___Please give me an opportunity to financially support your next spiritual pilgrimage (www.kickstarter.com)___Please invite me to attend a one or two week pilgrimage led by you.___Please offer one-on-one coaching and soul work to your readers and followers.Inviting you to take this journey with me...Brian
We Shall Not Cease from Exploring...
Between Two Worlds Day 19 (of 40)Four years ago I took off on a slightly over-ambitious cycling pilgrimage around the West. I knew that I needed to do something to face the losses of my life. I had lost three women important to me in a short 30-month period. At the same time I was knew I was working myself out of a job as I was guiding a church through a closure/legacy process. But floating between my subconscious and my conscious mind I held out some hope that the pilgrimage would propel me into some new professional role--maybe as a writer, maybe as the foremost expert on congregational grief, or maybe as the catalyst for a new spiritual community. I had momentary fantasies of riding back into Portland with hundreds of people lining the streets ready for a spiritual revolution!That didn't happen. In fact, by the time I arrived in California after seven weeks of riding I knew it wasn't going to happen. I could tell by my blog that, even though a great conversation was ignited, dozens of people weren't lining up ready for me to return. But the big reality check was returning to speak at churches as I rode the last 800 miles of the pilgrimage. I had held out some naive hope that I would return and there would be a resurgence of energy to pick my brain and hear about my experiences. Instead I got back and discovered that the church was still the church. Over 3,000 miles of riding, conquering a number of major mountain passes, and crossing the desert in the heat of August hadn't made even the slightest dent in the energy and future viability of the church.
The theme of this 40-day Lenten blog and conversation is "Between Two Worlds". I have spent the better part of these past five years flirting between these two worlds. Much of my energy has been seeing if I can get across the bridge into the new world. But the reality has been that despite the ongoing erosion of the old world there is still more of a world left to forge a livelihood on than the new world where there is vision, but very little organization. Metaphorically, there are still more apples on the tree in the church than on the little saplings that are peeking through the ground on the other side of the bridge. The future is in the saplings, but the old trees still fill my hungry stomach.Which brings me to today. Every morning I take 30-45 minutes to do some stream of consciousness writing that helps me to clear away the clutter in my head and listen to the voice and the wisdom of my soul. On Monday this wrestling match between these two worlds started to make sense to me--or at least I felt more comfortable with my place in it. I would love to be part of the building whatever this new world is supposed to be. But if I am honest with myself the reality is that I am too old and tired. I do believe that something new is being built, but that like the forty year fight for LGBT recognition, this too won't emerge overnight. It will be one generation, maybe two, before anything that looks like a new model and structure will be recognizable.With that growing realization my stream of consciousness writing brought me to the line, "My time will limited to simply being the explorer." I will never be the builder, but someone has to be the explorer and the scout.
In fact that has been my story so far these past five years. Twice I have taken off on pilgrimage only to come back and re-settle back into church life and the pastorate for two and three years at a time. I wonder if this is supposed to be my story (and quite honestly the story of many of us in this time)--that we will spend the rest of our lives flirting between these two worlds. I wonder if our lives will be the great experiment of going out on expedition (whether to foreign places or into the inner worlds of our psyches and souls), exploring new worlds, bringing it back, telling our stories, and then going out, coming back, going out, coming back until we all have crossed the bridge together.I shouldn't be surprised that this is where I might be ending up. Two years ago as I dug deeply to name this new work and identity I was forming I came up with the tagline for my website, "Exploring the World, Discovering the Soul." Even writing those words again feels refreshing.We don't have to be the builders right now. Maybe it is enough just to be explorers for awhile.I leave you with this T.S. Eliot quote:
"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."
The Great Estate Sale (Part 2)
Between Two Worlds Day 18 (of 40)Sharon H. asks the question, "Who are the people who would buy the estate?" referring to my blog on the The Great Estate Sale. I have decided to respond in a letter.Dear Sharon,Thank you for your question. I can imagine that that would be the question of any person or organization preparing to let go their estate in the hope that someone would carry on their legacy. The truth is I don't know exactly who these people are. I do have a hunch about what the shift is that our religious institutions are experiencing. Quite honestly, it feels so radically different than what I and we have known for decades that it is almost paralyzing. At the most basic level it seems to me that we are moving from "belief-oriented" communities to spiritualities that honor a direct experience of that which we call Sacred. If my sophomoric understanding of our religious history is right this means we may be preparing for the reappearance of religious mysticism.
You want to know who these people are. I think they are all around us. In fact, I think many of them are even in the church right now, but just haven't had their spirituality validated. Diana Butler Bass in her book Grounded says that the big change has been that the "God out there" has come home. God is no longer a distant being that we have to believe in in order to have a relationship; God is right in front us in the checkout line, out in the garden, and singing to us through iTunes. A God who is that personal doesn't need believing in; She or He only needs to be invited to share in the daily joys and challenges of everyday life. I can feel it especially in my preaching. People don't want to hear about God; they want to experience God in that short 20 minutes!But my point in my previous blog was not we should look for a good buyer before putting our estate up for sale. My point was that we may need to put it up for sale and see who decides to buy. My point is that we may be getting to the point where we no longer have control over who will carry on the legacy of the Christian tradition. We want to have some control over who carries on our name, our mission, and our buildings. But it seems the more we try to control our future the less attractive we become to those seeking a welcoming, faithful community of spiritual pilgrims.From a practical point of view it seems to me that we have nothing to lose. We either keep doing what we have been doing while our churches dissolve away. Or we do something radical like putting out a sign that reads, "Estate Sale Coming--We Want Our Treasures to Become Your Treasures!"
I write this from the place of experience. I was pastor of a church in Portland that was heading toward closing. Three years before the fateful day they made a decision. Rather than just wither away until there was nothing left they decided to spend their final months putting in place the pieces to leave a legacy on the site. They invited the community to a meeting and they told them, "We have a commitment to serve the community. We have a commitment to ministries of compassion in Jesus name. And we have a building that is 50% unused. We want to pass our spiritual and physical assets on to you."Within a year the city and a local non-profit opened up a 60-bed family homeless shelter in our extra classrooms. A earth-friendly non-profit partnered with us to build a 100-plot, 3/4 acre community garden. And another congregation that wanted to expand its social justice ministries made an offer on the building and took over the site.What made that work, however, was not trying to control their future, but by letting go the picture of their future. They named the values that were important to their legacy. The community sent those who best represented those values to us. Eastminster Church did close, but on the site is a worshiping community that is engaged and active in serving the community with programs that embody the compassion of Jesus.Eastminster, in the end, left a legacy, not by planning and manipulating their future, but by letting go of their future.Mike H. wrote yesterday about the community of AA and process of recovery. An alcoholic doesn't really "let go" until they hit bottom. I am wondering if that time is coming for us as well. I love Phyllis Tickle, but I don't think a rummage sale is going to be enough.
The Great Estate Sale
Between Two Worlds Day 17 (of 40)The late Phyllis Tickle said that the Church seems to go through a Great Rummage Sale about every five hundred years--a cleaning out of our closets and a massive purging of everything that seems to no longer its purpose. I really appreciate her image. It sends a clear message that there are periods where the institution of church has to commit to a radical spring cleaning of historic proportions.
But I wonder if the image of the rummage sale doesn't go quite far enough. I wonder if the more appropriate image would be that of an estate sale rather than a rummage sale. It's not just a matter of size--an estate sale being the larger of the two. It's more a matter of intent. In rummage sales we still hold onto the property and only slim it all down to the furnishings that still serve a purpose. In estate sales the whole property, furniture, belongings and junk get passed onto others.I write this as the themes of religious mysticism continue to ferment in my heart and soul. I am increasingly convinced that the shifts that we can feel, but can't quite name, are rooted in an historic return or re-imagining of Christian mysticism.What does this have to do with the difference between rummage sales and estate sales? I wonder if a rummage sale won't be enough. Rummage sales slim down the clutter in a home, but don't usually change the character and purpose of a home. Rummage sales usually just make it easier and more efficient to do what you already do.Estate sales, on the other hand, give the new owners permission to do whatever they like with their newfound furniture, property, gadgets, and junk. They get to put their newly acquired treasures to a completely new use and purpose. They are not confined to the stories of the past and the unspoken assumptions that accompany any family treasure.I write this with no hint of judgment or shame toward the church as it is. In fact, I write it as a message of hope. Many of our churches are afraid of closing. They fear that they will slowly erode away until there is nothing left of them. They get paralyzed worried that their mission and ministry will fade away like old ink on an exposed page.But it is my conviction that the tradition of religious mysticism is making a comeback that propels me to want to urge our church institutions to think beyond just rummage sales; it may be time to spend the next generation readying our churches and tradition for the Great Estate Sale. It may be time to start thinking about how we are going to turn the tradition, the values, and the assets of the church over to those who are nurturing new communities and spiritual disciplines around the tradition of religious mysticism.I write this too because I have flirted between these two worlds with only little success at bringing them together. If I believed (and had experienced) that a re-introduction of Christian mysticism would re-ignite the church in a way that would sustain it into future I would be advocated for a Great Rummage, not an estate sale. Unfortunately my experience has been the more firmly rooted I am in the church the less I am able to reach those spiritual seekers who are exploring mystical forms (whether they know it or not). And the more firmly I am grounded in the language and practices of mysticism the more wary and distrustful much of the church is toward me and my writing.
None of this is personal. It's not an attack on me and my ministry. It only makes my point--that a rummage sale may not be enough. As the current incarnation of church passes away it may be time to think about passing the church estate on to those who can best carry on its legacy. And quite honestly, I would rather that we pass the assets, values and mission of the church onto those who are resurrecting Christian mysticism than to have McDonald's and Hooters bidding for our property.Would you answer a hypothetical question for me as if it was posed by the church?Dear Friend,Over the next ten years, we, First Generic Church, will be passing our ministry and assets over to the community? If you were to be named as beneficiary to our estate how would you use the proceeds to further the great tradition of Christian community? Please feel free to use your imagination!