When in Rome, wear a long black skirt: Spending time in a Kingdom Hall

My spouse and I went to visit a Kingdom Hall today, the place of worship for Jehovah's Witnesses. I knew they tend to be on the conservative side so one of us went in slacks and a sweater, while the other of us went in a long black skirt and fuchsia sweater (I'll leave it to you to decide who wore which ensemble).

To be honest, until a few weeks ago, I knew two things about the Witnesses: a very fine family from my childhood was of this faith and part of the Witnesses' "job" is to go out into the world (including people's homes) and proclaim their message. (Which always brings to mind the old joke "What do you get when you cross a Jehovah's Witness with a Unitarian? Someone who knocks on your door for no apparent reason.)

A class assignment has me reading Judging Jehovah's Witnesses: Religious Persecution and the Dawn of the Rights Revolution by Shawn Francis Peters. While I'm only halfway through the book, which describes the persecution the Witnesses experienced here in the U.S. on the eve of WWII, I can tell you that the irony of suppressing one's religious freedoms in the name of patriotism is not lost on the author. It had me thinking about the often misguided attempts at "out-patrioting" we witnessed (and still do) in the post-9/11 era.

What got the American Legion and others wound up to the point of brutalizing hundreds of Witnesses in the 1940s stemmed from a number of court cases, including a Supreme Court case involving children who refused to salute the flag on religious grounds (which rings similarly to my own thoughts on forced patriotism, although I haven't used the term idolatry to describe it, oh, and I didn't get the crap beaten out of me, either).

So, we sat in on a nearly two-hour meeting of the faithful and looked up a seemingly endless stream of biblical one-liners. They're an earnest people, these Witnesses. They have strong beliefs, yet they proclaim humbly. I mean it, too. Think of the amount of conviction it takes to go up to a stranger's door and share deeply held beliefs as if it were a point of life or death. And for them it really is that deadly serious. I asked the woman who was gracious enough to sit with me and answer questions after the meeting about what it was like to go "in the field" and do ministry. She admitted that if it were any other topic, she'd be scared to death, but all their time in study has given her the confidence of her topic. More importantly, she goes out not because she can; she goes out because she must. Powerful words spoken by a pretty unassuming woman.

I won't go into their beliefs. While they're based on the same set of scriptures that I use when preparing a sermon (although they use a different translation), the conclusions they reach are far different from my own. However, many of the traditions, such as allowing only male members the ability to preach in the assembly, are not that different from other faith traditions with which I am more familiar, including a couple of the more conservative Lutheran denominations. And for those who know the term, they also seem to adhere to a "fellowship doctrine" that is eerily familiar to someone who was exposed to the strange German Lutheran ways. Curiously enough, my escort mentioned that when it comes to day-to-day operations, including much of the door-to-door ministry, it's the women who do the bulk of the work. Again, a not unfamiliar concept for most of the Christian denominations I've been exposed to - the women do the fundraising and mission work behind the scenes. Regardless of the religious bent, women once again wear the heavy robe of the suffering servant with a quiet grace that renders me speechless.

So, what did I get out of the experience? Do I see myself joining them as a member in the future? Not likely. I've traveled entirely too many miles on a different path than theirs. That doesn't mean that I couldn't don my entirely appropriate long, black skirt and join them on their own turf again in the future. They're decent people with a genuine concern for others and for each other. While their beliefs are not my own, they have their eyes on a prize that is only attained by following a carefully ordered plan. What they want, is summed up in the final sentence of their Watchtower lesson of the day, "Yes, if we prove to be real followers of Christ, we will receive God's favor, and our future will be secure as if founded on rock!"

Animal Attraction

I've been thinking about critters a lot lately, more specifically, mine. When I say the three dogs and two cats that occupy our living quarters are "mine" I don't quite mean it a possessive sort of way. Rather, I look at our furry brood as our contribution to supporting creation. They're my responsibility. (Well, mine and the fella who does the bulk of the care-giving 'round these here parts.)

When humanity was charged in Genesis 1 with having dominion over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, our marching orders weren't "and declaw them and throw them from moving vehicles and break their bodies and spirits." Yet, that's what we've done with creation. We've abused it, we've altered habitats, we've altered critters to the point that they're mere genetic shadows of their former selves.

And now, in at least this home, we're trying to provide physical, emotional and spiritual healing to the ones who share our home. Each of them has his or her own set of "challenges."

Merlin was abandoned in a state park, left to fend for himself, as though a 20 pound dog has retained his instincts to hunt for food and defend himself. Sweet Pea was tossed with her litter mates from a moving vehicle and left for dead. Chicklet, at about 6-9 months old, appeared at our door hungry and exhausted after having one, if not two litters of kittens. Beans' past is a mystery, but he had a shattered back leg and has occasional moments of being "spooked." Nilla, another skinny cat was so traumatized by his near starvation that he compulsively eats to the point of jeopardizing his health because his brain is stuck in starvation mode.

Sure. Some might argue that the time, energy and money we put into these critters, "just" animals after all, could be better spent on humans. There's no shortage of people in need of food, clothing and shelter. How Christian is it to turn our backs on people and use our resources on "damaged" pets? To that I have this to say:

Then God said, "Let us make humankind in our image,

according to our likeness;

and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea,

and over the birds of the air,

and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth,

and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth." Gen. 1:26 (NRSV)

If the Christian Bible has a passage like that, that points out that we are made in the image of God and are expected to rule over the land and creation like God, then we darn well better pay attention because "God saw everything that [God] had made, and indeed, it was very good." (Gen 1:31, NRSV)

Fish bowls, glass houses, logs and such

I believe I encountered my first moment of living in a fishbowl on Saturday. Up to now, this mild-mannered seminarian has managed to fly under the radar -- going to school and preaching the occasional sermon by day and still having a life from time to time at night. I got together with some friends (and my mother, I might add) at a drinking establishment near the town where I graduated and also near a church that I'm still affiliated with and have delivered a couple of sermons.

I had a great time with my friends. We chatted and laughed. We got loud. We had drinks. We had fun. I suspect to at least one family, we had too much of the above. You see, this was one of those bar/restaurant deals where families and rowdies are right next to each other. I'm afraid some of the language and subject matter wafted too close to the family and got their attention. Only later did I connect the face of the unhappy-looking dad to how I knew him. I'm pretty sure he was one of the fellas who looked on approvingly just a few weeks ago when I preached at the local church. And here I was, cussing, drinking and talking about a less than saintly youth. Oh dear.

By coincidence, I happened to be going back to that church on Sunday to attend the service with my mother. I was wondering what kind of a dialog I'd be able to have with the father-figure, but he was a no-show. The sermon text, however, was telling: Matthew 7:1-5...

“Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. ²For with the judgment you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get. ³Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye? ⁴Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye? ⁵You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye."

Now, this could say that I got a pass for behavior that many good church-going types would say is unbecoming a preacher. Sure, it does to a point. I'll be the first to shout from the rooftops "Big ol' log here! Look out! Coming through!" But the point of the sermon was a good one, too... shouldn't we be able to hold some set of criteria from which we can measure ourselves up? I suppose, yes.

There's a lot of anguish with the Unitarians on campus that they aren't sure how they can go to a Christian school and yet still be authentic to their beliefs. I understand where they're coming from. I'm no picture of perfection, nor is that what I strive for. My struggle is figuring out how to be authentic to who I am: a quirky gal who sometimes says and does inappropriate things, but really does try to do her best ... and often fails. A lot. This is on my mind pretty heavy at the moment because I'm starting the process in which I seek the support of my denomination and formally enter an ordination track. That means that I need to temper some of the things I say and maybe be more careful about what I do. I need to realize more fully that my words and actions have an impact on others, whether I like it or not.

The argument might be that I should be self-monitoring anyway. My response to that line of thinking is whether clergy, lay, or simply a citizen of this planet, isn't that what we should all be doing? I'm willing to live in a fishbowl or a glass house take a peek, toss a rock, whatever. But be forewarned -- occasionally you're going to get mooned. I guess we're all going to have to learn to live with it.

On being the devil's advocate

I'm giving a sermon next week, the first Sunday in Lent, at my confirming congregation. Lent is one of those heavy-hitter times in the Christian calendar. The Gospel reading for this particular Sunday is Luke 4:1-13, the temptation story.

The traditional take on this story is to say something like "Yay, Jesus! Way to be pious in the desert and do all that praying and stuff ... Boo, devil! How dare you tempt Jesus in his weakened state? Yay, Jesus! You kicked the devil's butt." Too bad the devil gets such a bum rap. In the great screenplay that is the Bible and the Christian modern interpretation of it, the devil makes a number of cameo appearances, from the original temptation at the tree of knowledge (where he's portrayed as a serpent) to the book of Job where a certain "Satan" ("the accuser/adversary") works out a deal with God to put Job to a trial to a truckload of walk-0n roles in the New Testament.

Seems like wherever the devil shows up, nothing good can follow. Say that in any number of congregations on a Sunday morning, and you're going to see a lot of heads bobbing in agreement. Funny thing about the devil, though. Dude tends to show up, cause trouble for the person he's encountered and it ends in their demise, right? Um, no. In the Genesis story, the serpent shows up, Eve samples the fruits of the knowledge of good and evil, yet another of God's creations, and next thing you know, humanity as we know it comes into being. Eve becomes enlightened. In the Job story, Satan can only make the story unfold with God's permission. While Job does encounter many horrific events through the acts of Satan, Job also has an encounter with God that could not have been in Job's original state.

As another Jewish text written for a Jewish audience, should we expect anything different when Jesus has his personal encounter with the devil than an opportunity to become more than he has been up to that point? The Jesus portrayed in the first chapters of Luke don't exactly show Jesus as a political rabble-rouser who could be considered an enemy of the state. He was a 30-year old guy who doesn't appear to have done anything noteworthy since he was 12 years old and stayed behind on a family trip to Jerusalem. Suddenly, we encounter a newly baptized Jesus who was led by the Holy Spirit to the wilderness (and it appears it may have been a case of a dump and run, as we don't see a reappearance of the Spirit until after the passage is over). It's at this point that the screenwriter seems to have said, "this book is moving pretty slowly, cue the devil."

Only when the devil comes on the scene does it appear there is enough of a kick in the butt for the action to happen. Finally, there's the first dialog between Jesus and anyone other than his parents. (And I thought I was introverted!) So Jesus and the devil have a bit of a conversation in which Jesus draws wisdom from...well, it's not from himself. If nothing else, the scene looks like a couple of second-graders tossing spitballs of scripture back and forth from each other. What does come out of this is that we see that Jesus is rooted in the teachings of his elders. We get a glimpse into the well from which he will draw his ability to speak and act moving ahead. We also see a devil that sticks around long enough show a movement in the protagonist's character to support the next scene, and the devil exits (stage right) until the next time a plot turn is needed in the story. (Which happens to be when an explanation is needed as to why Judas Iscariot would throw Jesus under the bus in Luke 22:3 -- Satan enters Judas.)

Seriously, do you think this story about a 30-year old mama's boy would play in Peoria if there weren't a couple of plot points to keep things interesting? Would the story have been as interesting if instead of naming the character the "devil," the character were named "opportunity" or "change"? C'mon, even back in the first century there had to be at least a couple of different campfires around which people gathered after a long day at the office to hang out. If you're going to draw a crowd when there are competing venues trying to get their attention, you're going to have to have some good plot progression and a decent story to tell. A devil may care attitude doesn't hurt, either.

Proclaim!

It's been a tough couple of weeks since my last post. On January 12, two events occurred that have affected me deeply. You'd have to have lived under a rock to not know there was an earthquake in Haiti, leaving millions homeless and injured, and a six-figure death count. In addition to all those who died in Haiti, there was another death that hit closer to home. A friend and colleague lost her life as a result of what was for her an incurable depression.

The latter death has had a profound effect on how I've personally absorbed the impact of global event. I know it's been difficult for me to turn on the TV or radio. I simply could not handle any more grief for several days. It dawned on me that I couldn't possibly be the only one who's too overwhelmed with the Haiti story and it left me feeling hopeless.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, I've been taking an accelerated class this January called Media, Culture and Worship. We have been encouraged to experiment with multimedia and cultural events and to try to marry the two with the readings assigned for the upcoming Sunday. I decided to try to turn the feeling of hopelessness on its ear and focus on tangible things closer to home that we can focus on.

Those of you who can focus on Haiti are probably thinking, "Just make a donation" or something like that. What you may not realize is that when you're experiencing personal despair, the feeling of sending a few bucks out to some unknown place doesn't feel very effective. I simply ask you treat those who don't seem engaged with kindness. You have no idea what may be happening in their lives that are making it impossible for them to see more than a few feet in front of them. The fog that imprisons them could be paralyzing them on their journey. Rather than prodding them, try outstretching your hand and proclaim the good news: love your neighbor.

Thanks for carrying the water

For class, I needed to do some work with this coming Sunday's lectionary readings. One of the readings is John 2:1-11.

1 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2 Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3 When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." 4 And Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." 5 His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." 6 Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7 Jesus said to them, "Fill the jars with water." And they filled them up to the brim. 8 He said to them, "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward." So they took it. 9 When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10 and said to him, "Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now." 11 Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

Part of the deal is we're supposed to ponder the texts for a while and see what speaks to us. Because the class is "Culture, Media and Worship" we are also supposed to consider using mixed media and make the text relevant for today's people. So what are my impressions from this reading?

• In the reading Mary gets a speaking role but isn't named. I believe in the actors union that means she'd earn less of a paycheck. This annoys me.
• If there were 6 stone jars, each holding 20-30 gallons of water, we're talking 120-180 gallons of wine. Don't know about anyone else, but that begins to smack of gluttony to me. (Whatever happened to a few loaves and fishes being enough to feed the masses? That story doesn't say there was enough food to stuff the people like Thanksgiving turkeys, yet in this passage, it appears the people at the party in Cana would be capable of getting knee-walking drunk.)

I'm not finding much inspiration within the reading itself (doesn't help that I find John to be annoying to start with). Knowing that if I can find a personal connection, I'm sometimes more able (or willing) to work through a passage, I spent some time last night going through some family photos, looking for wedding pictures. (I'm fortunate enough that when my grandmothers on both sides died, an aunt on one side and a cousin on the other took it upon themselves to scan the old photo albums and press them to CD.) While I did find some cool wedding photos, I also found a ton of wonderful family pics that I was able to post as an album on Facebook, so that I can share them with my far-flung family and friends.

I can't say I had inspired moments with the scripture readings yesterday, but I did have a couple of hours of connections with family known and unknown, living and dead who have formed me and each in his or her way have made some contribution to the person I've become today. The connection to the text: even in the Gospel of John, where Jesus is made out to be a superhero, there is still a human element. The Jesus portrayed in the gospels still had to be raised by his immediate and extended family, his faith community and his neighbors. If there were a photo album for Jesus, would it have had a Grandpa Joe who was constantly holding a cigarette, the aunt who was always in the presence of a horse or a dog or some other critter, the unknown blurry images of a nearly forgotten family member from a few generations back who still contributed some thread of wisdom or family folklore? I think so.

To be human is to be in connection with others, chosen family or not. When we have some big idea, we all need someone in a supporting role, someone who might be unnamed who does the equivalent of telling the servants "do whatever he tells you" -- someone, somewhere, known or unknown is watching your back and giving you support. I've had a few water-to-wine moments. I couldn't be where I am today without them. There have been countless family members, bosses, co-workers and even strangers who have helped get the wheels in motion.

While it took the so-called miracle to get Jesus' disciples to believe in him, his mother believed in him from the beginning. I try to imagine a Mary who gives her boy the same kind of look of joy and hope that my mother did with my brother in the photo above. There's a miracle of faith that's played out every day between people who love each other, who see the potential of the other without a shred of evidence it can be so. Perhaps, rather than focusing on the enormous amount of alcohol produced, I'll spend some time thinking about those who have literally and figuratively "carried the water." To me, this is where the miracle lays: it's the everyday miracle of believing in each other and letting the love flow out of a seemingly empty water jar. I'll take 180 gallons from that jar any day.

Drowning in God

One of the most striking photos I've seen in the news in the past week and a half or so is the one to the right. The attribution has long since disappeared, but I know I've seen it on the BBC, CNN, a few local news sites and now it's making its rounds on personal blogs.

The first couple of times I saw the image, it gave me the same physical, almost electrical, sensation that I've had when reading some scripture, most particularly the Psalms. I can't ever read the first portion of Psalm 139 without getting a serious case of the willies.

¹O Lord, you have searched me and known me.

²You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away.

³You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways.

⁴Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.

⁵You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.

⁶Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it.

⁷Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

⁸If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

Seriously creepy. Finally I've found the image that works with the Psalm. It used to be I only had the soundtrack of the Police "I'll be watching you" playing in my head.

Now having the photo and music playing in my head, it's a truly multimedia experience. In my J-term class, we're supposed to be looking at the text for the coming Sunday and reflecting on it. For those of you who don't keep up to speed on such things, this Sunday's gospel reading is the Luke passage in which Jesus is baptized. The upshot of the reading, or at least the part that sticks in people's minds is this:

Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying,

the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove.

And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’

So, Jesus and a bunch of folks take the big dunk, the symbolic death and rebirth in the water. He gets out and while he's still wet behind the ears in both the literal and figurative senses, this voice pours forth from the open heavens... Okay, at this point in the story, I guess I don't care what the voice actually says, 'cause the message is "I've been watching you." I'm not sure how much clothing one wore back in the day when baptized, but how naked and exposed it would feel to hear this voice making commentary on your actions. That's the relationship with God that makes me feel unsettled - think telescreen in 1984.

I know it's a comfort to many to know God's watching, his eye being on the sparrow and all that, but I know I can't be the only one who thinks that kind of power isn't at least a little bit scary, not to mention perhaps a nice bit of hyperbole. These are the moments in my seminary studies where I feel like I'm dangerously close to touching that third rail - it propels me forward, it raises doubts that the contact is that dangerous, and yet it scares the hell out of me.