The Margins

Many of us live close to the margins. And not just the poor.

There are all kinds of margins. Money is an easy one to identify. It is easy feel that we need more. We spend easily, money dripping through our fingers like water. And many don’t even notice it. But we know if we don’t have financial room, and it is tight and constraining.

Some are more so than others: they are only one hospital bill or one child away from poverty: one accident away from financial disaster, or jobless. Those are difficult margins – we don’t have any room or space.

Another margin is time. Westchester is busy. It’s easy to get caught up in the number of tasks we just have to do. We run from picking up the kids to karate to shopping. And as we get more harried, we seek convenience, and then we seem to have less time.

So how do we find just a little bit of space? To have a little cash – just enough not to worry; to have enough time to let the mind be fallow and restful? To allow for some focusing? Well, there is changing the entire system. But aside from that?

It might mean taking a quick break; going on a much needed retreat; insisting on a 1/2 hour walk without an ipod. It might mean taking a morning to try something creative. But resist scheduling; give yourself time to cook, to read, to do what gives you joy. It is in those spaces we become human.

It might mean examining more clearly how we spend our lives. Note the use of the word “spend” as if our lives are themselves commodities, that our time is equal to money. Money can be, however, simply a measurement rather than an indicator of moral worth. I have found that when I journal and monitor my spending and eating and my time, I can make choices that are more joyful. I realize how much I have already.

It takes building a resistance to conveniences, to rushing, to spending, to restoring a sense of what is lovely and beautiful. It often requires saying “enough” or “no” to another task.

It is alright not to rush, to have space. And the antidote is a healthy amount of gratitude. That’s the reason we give to each other, we give to our communities, we give to ourselves. Through giving, we find we have more space to move, a greater ability to discern what matters, sloughing off the clutter that drives us crazy. Through collaborating and sharing ourselves, we’ll find it inconvenient, but more rewarding, and a lot less costly.

For if we’re always trying to have more, aren’t we distracted from what we have which has previously given us sustenance and joy?

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Don’t Invite People to Church

I recently read a fabulous article by a young Episcopalian. Her tag: stop inviting people to church.

Yep. Don’t invite people to church.

I understand why she says such. “Conversion” is often confused with “you’d better believe what I believe, or else.” I know it is a misunderstanding of the word; and I’m personally convinced that the Episcopal Church may save all that is good and holy and just in the church. But as someone with an interfaith background, I’m simply not interested in proselytizing.

I suspect Jesus was less interested in getting people to think the same, than to invite them into peaceful relationships.

Since we are in a post-Christian age, the faith will encounter lots of suspicion. The stereotype of Christians are that we can’t stand difference, sex and bomb Muslims.

Clearly, Episcopalian, modernist Christians will be misunderstood.

So stop inviting. That just affirms the wrong things about the faith.

Besides, it’s not working for us.

Instead, she suggests, just get out there and listen. Meet people and enjoy them. Chances are they are just expecting you Christian person to be another crusader for an agenda they don’t believe. Defeat that expectation.

When they say “I hate organized religion,” you can agree – we’re theologically disorganized, after all, compared to our sister Roman church. When they say they are “spiritual but not religious” there is no reason to mock their lack of commitment. And when they express their fears about religion, you can hold their hand.

It’s enough that you know that St. Barts is a different place. You are making it into a different kind of institution. In the fullness of time, our church will respond better to the lives around it – as we become a listening, learning, organization.

Don’t be afraid to be who you are. When your religious identity comes up, articulate it. State what you believe: I don’t hate gays, I don’t think other faiths are damned, I believe in evolution, but I follow in the path of Jesus Christ and believe that he liberated us from the powers of the world. If you aren’t sure you can say at least Yes, for what it is worth, I believe, even though I don’t always know what the end of that sentence is.

Chances are they are expecting you to convert them. Instead, stop. Don’t let it cross your lips. As they ask you about your theology, your commitment, your practice, do not invite them to church. If they ask to visit, don’t tell them how much you want them to be there. Say instead how much you love the community and what it has done for you. Be the church by simply letting the holy love lead them.

But don’t invite them to church.

You are now, and forever, off the hook. It is enough to hold fast to the idea that the Divine Affection cradles you in His arms and loves you effortlessly. I promise you, it will come up, where you to church. Tell them I’m not allowed to invite people. I’m only allowed to care for them.

Yes, we are called to preach the gospel. But the strongest evidence that we have inculcated the Gospel is a confidence in our own hearts; one that trusts that He knows what He is doing, even in the lives of those who misunderstand the nature of God, Christ, and His Church.

Because the faith is not just holed up in the institution. It is manifest in every relationship we create. It is enough to get out there, love and challenge the world that has been created, and work to build the peaceable kingdom with those who would have it.

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Jesus Encounters the Woman

Based on Proper 19

In this week’s Gospel reading, Jesus has his encounter with the Syro-phonecian woman. She asks for her daughter to be healed. Jesus initially refuses and insults her. But the woman entreats him. Jesus, then moved by her directness, heals her daughter. In a short passage we see our Lord move from being provincial to magnanimity.

It’s not easy to be magnanimous. It requires regular reflection and spiritual discipline. Even those who love us can utter words that can seem cruel and contemptuous. We offer ultimatums, we misunderstand intentions, we have suspicions. In the midst of a fight, magnanimity in these cases seems delusional.

But magnanimity is one of the virtues Christ embodies. It means, sometimes, managing our own anger; interpreting the best (or misinterpreting the best) in other people. We let people make mistakes, and we create an opening of trust that can become an anchor for the future. It means we reject revenge and manage the internal life that would render other people small and inconsequential.

It takes practice. Sometimes it hurts as much as a hard workout – because our natural response to being rejected or hurt is to respond with the same. It requires some bravery. And as one Greek philosopher said, it requires we endure tactlessness with mildness.

As Christ was, let us have the inner strength to be generous to the defeated and broken. The only expense is our own pusillanimity. Perhaps it is the secret of our spiritual healing. It is worth the price.

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Who will pay the bills?

Sometimes you can hear the desperation of the church crying out into the wilderness.

Where are all the people?

How will we pay the bills?

Why is our roof leaking?

It’s not a pretty sight. I’ve seen churches where parishioners trounce upon new members like vampires, sucking out life from these unsuspecting innocents.

“Will you serve on this committee? Will you do the work? Will you give us money? Blood or your first child is also OK.”

It is discouraging for vampires. I mean, discouraging for us in the church who truly want to serve, and require resources to do this.

We are caught pleading and begging. It’s the season for us not-for-profits to beg and plead. Blah blah blah. I need your hard earned cash. Now.

Many visitors know that they will be seen as prey and have the sense that they will be valued mainly for their financial contribution. I know because sometimes I, myself, have felt like a predator, wanting desperately to be liked, begging for people to come again. And then making newcomers do the work other congregants burnt themselves out on.

It’s the way many churches work.

I want us to do something different. I’ve noticed that the energy of new members has reinvigorated long term members. We’re at an important time in our history.

But before getting on this treadwheel, let me offer a new way of thinking about what we are about to do.

I believe that if the only thing the church cares about is its own institutional survival, then just let it die. In fact, let’s kill it. People don’t need clergy as personal chaplains. They should develop better friendships (although I’ll always be a friendly sounding board). They don’t need to fund a building that’s falling apart, when they’ve got more pressing needs of their own. People are not here to serve the church. Visitors don’t exist for the sake of the church’s survival.

As long as the institutional church thinks of the outside community as potential recruits into their cult, it will either become a cult that revolves around a charismatic personality, or die.

What we need is a completely different model. We’re beginning to try out here.

A few people, of course, are skeptical. In the old days, the priest was the caregiver. The congregation got served. The priest becomes the one who is responsible for explaining the faith, making the rules, and calling the shots. I do long for those days, but people don’t buy it much anymore. Nor should they.

In a new model, the role of the priest is to communicate the gospel, help people collaborate to live out their ministry, and create entrepreneurial programs that build the community.

In the new model, the church exists for the sake of building up other people – that is what Jesus Christ did. Not just Episcopalians. Not just Christians or Catholics. But everyone who needs support. Skeptics and Jews and Muslims.

Just not Methodists. And Red Sox fans. I draw the line there.

Just kidding aobut that, actually. Of course Methodists. Shintoists must go to the outer darkness. Although I have nothing but respect for those who practice the cult of Amaterasu Omakami.

I digress.

The shift means that we live into the idea of the priesthood of all believers. Instead of being priest centered – or even church centered – each one of us has the responsibility of encouraging, challenging and participating in our communities. In this time of chaos and distress, we are called to discern our community’s needs. Every individual in the parish has a calling, a purpose, a potentiality that they can live out and share.

We may have to think hard about how we connect with people. Do we even know our neighbors? Can we discover their passions, their needs, their hopes and fears, their motivations? Then, when we gather, we can share these hopes and find ways to advocate and enact them.

These friends and connections may never darken our door. But we would be there.

This requires a long term view. It’s hard to change our perspective because we’re here looking at the roof, wondering how its going to be fixed, frustrated that our kids don’t value the faith that we have. Perhaps we should ask them about what they need.

I think we’ve been telling people what we need so often we’ve simply forgotten how to listen. In many churches we’ve told them who they should be, what they should do, and what they should do better. Some people want those churches and need them badly.

Our call, however, may simply be – at this time – to listen carefully to what the culture is saying, and where it is hearing the gospel. For the gospel isn’t just holed up in church.

Maybe once we have heard, we’ll become the gathering that was intended for us all along.

And yes, pledge cards will be in the mail. Yes, we’re desperate. We want to suck your blood.

Metaphorically.

Please note that last sentence “we want to suck your blood” was meant as humor.

Complaints please forward straight to God.

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On the Internet

In the midst of our current environment, I’ve been intrigued by how much implicit authority technology has to frame our perspective.

Brain scan imaging demonstrates how the tools we use become extensions of our bodies and minds. Technology affects how we think, work, play and pray. Our humanity has always been linked to our ability to manipulate objects; but it also seems true that objects have power over us.

Technology can’t easily be separated from how we pray or articulate our faith. Our sacred stories moved from speech to script. Eventually they were collected into a codex, and a millenia later, these codexes became mass produced. Scrolls meant to be heard became books meant to be read.

The alphabet itself is technology that allows us to convey meaning, making words physical, so that we can take it from one place to another. The written word was how people could send clear instructions into the future. For those who couldn’t read, the technology of stained glass windows told the story.

Our most recent technological innovations have compressed space and time. In our immediate news cycle, we are invited to react and respond quickly, without thought or reflection, imitating whatever outrage or anxiety that seems most familiar to us. The ancient values of prudence and patience seem quaint, cautious and dull while we are perpetually stimulated with whatever moment of insanity exposed to us.

And yet, technology is not the enemy. Facebook, Twitter and other social networking sites are often fun and useful. They may build real connections. But they are meant to enable connections, not replace them. Cyberspace cannot heal the body, the way a physical presence can.

Yet it is in rest, in patience, in slowness, where we actually find the spirit. It is fine to be busy. It is virtuous to have work. But it is no virtue to worship speed. Over time, choosing a screen over a body corrodes the soul.

I wonder if spending one day a week with no electronic media would enable us to strengthen the tender virtues that are quickly diminishing from our daily practice. It would remind us that we have some authority over the tools we construct, and how we use them. We would be more aware, also, of how our tools have authority over us.

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Hoarding and the Multiplier Effect

A few months ago I came across an article about the growing number of people who have been discovered with the mental illness of hoarding. As they get older, they accumulate stuff that eventually becomes a hazard. It’s not much different than the cause of our current economic state: in times of insecurity, institutions hoard. Then money stands still and people lose work. Money doesn’t do what it is supposed to do: move.

A market economy discourages hoarding and encourages exchange. Free exchange is better than the alternative: force. But as the market gets more complicated, hoarding wealth harms more people. People stop becoming generous when money doesn’t move.

But generosity multiplies. In simple capitalism, the economist Keynes, along with most modern economists, describe the importance of the “multiplier” effect. It is an accounting of how the market catalyzes trade, which ideally encourages jobs. When we employ people, we give them purchasing power, which employs more people, which encourages even more purchasing power. You get, then you spend.

In times of desperation, entrepreneurs get scared and hoard. In those cases, those who have cash lack confidence. Confidence is a dangerous position. It is an appropriate corollary with faith. It is the catalyst of making decisions. Good ones. Bad ones. It’s great when everyone’s making money. It’s bad when it drives us off a cliff. I know I’ll survive. It’s just a cliff, and I’ve been doing hundreds of squats a day.

Church economics takes this general map a step further. We give what we can, and even more so, risking ourselves. Last February we held a party to raise money for an organization that represented the homeless. It was noted that we probably needed the money ourselves. “How can we spend when we’re the ones struggling?”

But with that generosity, a few things were catalyzed. Our refrigerator broke that month; the organization replaced it. The United Way then came in and offered us cash to help with our Kitchen. Even now a funder has come to offer work on it. All following from our willingness to give to others. Because most people are surprised when a church gives cash to other people.

Without expecting a return back.

What we created was a “stimulus package.” It was the multiplier effect. And when we live lives of generosity, we’re catalyzing communities.

Granted, there are limits. The highest form of charity encourages sustainability, not dependence. And there are lots of steps along the way. The first step, alas, is coercion. Or “guilt” as they say in the religiosity business. The last step is out of love, so that the other person can get back on their feet.

For what its worth, there are about 5 tag sales happening in the area on the same day. I imagine that people will buy from several of the sales, and next year, they will donate them to be sold again. I can’t help but think that we got donations of things that were bought from this rummage sale several years ago. The money gets passed around, enough for us to pay a few bills and continue the daily work. But the catalyzing force was the generosity of people willing to bring goods to the church.

The work of the church then transforms other people’s castaways to what other people desire. As people stop hoarding, money is multiplied.

Like love.

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Fr Cutie: Some thoughts

A few weeks, The Rev. Fr. Cutie, aka “Father Oprah” the most famous Latino Roman Catholic priest in Miami, and possibly the world, was received as an Episcopalian. In a year, he will be consecrated as a presbyter in the Church of God, Anglican division.

Apparently, he’d been thinking about the switchover for about two years. Which, coincidentally, was about the time he met his fiancée.

Is it a scandal? Not changing religions. We fought those wars. Luther changed the order after being irked by Italian impiety. Soon after, the English King and a handful of other skeptical types reformatted the faith, offering a freedom from the imperial church, who seemed to be opposed to good times and making money for anyone else except its own cardinals.

Change? Old news. If you aren’t forced to do it by the sword, maybe there’s another church that will make you richer and establish you with the right crowd.

Denominational fluidity has especially been a hallmark of our American Culture. It’s more about who’s parties you like than the distinctions between goats and sheep. Fortunately, we all think we’re in the right place when we get there.

For a variety of reasons, Roman Catholics find it harder to switch. It’s not because most actually believe that the pope is the best dressed guy in the world, or that the RC church has the stairs to the kingdom in some Vatican back alley. It’s a family, and nobody wants to abandon the family. To leave out of personal convenience seems tawdry. Sometimes we don’t agree with everything our mom says, but we don’t go and get a mother who agrees with us. We don’t go sleeping around with a bunch of younger, sexier religions just because our partners are getting a little dowdy. It’s for life.

It’s an old story. Catholic priest wants to get laid. God calls him to be a priest. And he thinks that Episcopalians are Catholic enough. So again, the Roman Catholic church has lost a guy who couldn’t remain in the church because he liked an adult women. To rub salt in the wound, he’s hot.

The real reason this is interesting is not the conversion. What’s wild is that he is a a celebrity. How many Episcopal priests have a TV show that’s not cable access? Most of the hand wringing isn’t because he’s moved over, but because the media does what it always does: compress time and space so that everyone is shocked and left feeling a bit bruised. Modernity allows us to create our own identity, to seek truth apart from culture. Postmodernism just speeds it up a hundred times.

More interesting, he chose the Episcopal Church. It would have made more sense to some if he had become Pentecostal, which is growing immensely in the Latino Community. Instead, he joined a church whose roots are not in Latin America but in the British Isles, a church that was once called the “Republican Party at prayer,” had FDR and Thurgood Marshall as members, and has ordained a gay bishop.

How was this possible? He chose the church for theological reasons. This is an example of a faith delinked and unmoored from cultural identity. If it had only been sex he could have stayed Roman and remained a layperson. But his cultural identity as a Roman Catholic was challenged by the cultural hegemony of American Protestantism.

Perhaps what has happened is that he represents the continued alteration of European-American culture by the Latino community. America, by making religion another commodity in the spiritual marketplace, will unmoor Latinos them from their own geography and traditions. That one can choose a faith demonstrates the cultural power of capital. Like most Americans, Latinos will find it easier to choose whatever faith suits them. Cutie chose the Episcopal Church.

I suspect, however, this will not be a one way change. What will also change is the Episcopal Church. I’m not sure if he will be eating cucumber sandwiches and drinking Gin and Tonics at our garden parties. Instead, we Episcopalians will be serving beans and rice and drinking Mojitos. Not a bad change for us. Let’s welcome it.

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Why Organized Religion can be a Good Thing.

Here is what a church can do:

1) Build trust among its diverse members;
2) Advocate for the less fortunate;
3) Care for those who do not get care;
4) Harnesses the highest cultural ideas, if imperfectly;
5) gather out of mutual affection rather than necessity or profit;
6) foster ideas, talents and relationships of intrinsic, rather than extrinsic, worth;
7) provide down (or “sabbath”) time;
8) deepen and encourage reverence and respect;
9) teach that there is power in numbers;
10) reveres the limits of our individual power;
11) contain the madness of individuals in the culture;
12) engage in conflict in a safe and manageable way.
13) ease the burdens of people who aren’t its members;
14) build reliable and strong hearts;
15) reinforce an appreciation for the world.

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What Gordon Ramsay Knows about Churches

I’m fascinated by the show Kitchen Nightmares.

Gordon Ramsey is a famous chef, and the star. He had previously hosted the show Hell’s Kitchen. Over a season, 12 chefs would compete and the winner would have their own restaurant.

In “Kitchen Nightmares,” Ramsey would go to a restaurant that was in serious need of help. The food would be awful; the kitchen, unmanageable; the cooks, often clueless; sometimes the refrigerator would be unsanitary. The decor and design of the restaurant would occasionally be a mess. The maitre’d would be on his cell phone. The owners, frustrated and deeply in debt.

In comes Ramsey. He tastes the food. Its old, stale, gimmicky. He takes one or two bites and then puts it aside. Ramsey takes his time – he looks, smells and chews – and the food is sent back. Always. And the chefs are almost always surprised.

It is the show’s point.

He then goes into the kitchen to inform people what’s wrong, usually in salty – and direct – language. The next morning, before the restaurant owners get there, he checks out the stove and refrigerator. With the appropriate music, the closeups of the filth and vermin, unworkable stoves and unclean containers become drama.

Ramsey always has it out with one of the players. Sometimes the owner has no idea how to manage people: they get angry and hostile at the customers and yell at the staff. Others are milquetoast. The chefs are disempowered to do what they know; other times the chefs are incompetent. The excitement of the show comes as Ramsey identifies the weak links, bangs his head on the refrigerator, and pulls his hair out. Then he offers dramatic commentary.

Ramsey then demands at some point, that everyone gets involved. They clean – really clean – the kitchen. They exchange roles. Can Ramsey actually convince the owner, the chef, the manager, to do what needs to be done? Will people listen to his demands, or will they condemn him as an interloper? With a newly designed menu and refurnished restaurant, the restaurant finds itself halting the steady slide into failure.

At heart, “Kitchen Nightmares” is a show about repentance and redemption. Ramsey exposes the truth. He calls people to take ownership in their skill and be accountable. He works with the challenging party by reminding them that they have a desire and passion for good food. He changes the way people think about themselves and about each other. He brings families together by taking no prisoners, by telling them what nobody else would say.

He changes the menu: he identifies a niche, makes the menu fresh and simple according to the talents of the chef. The restaurant then opens up again, with hundreds of customers (brought usually by Chef Ramsey’s celebrity). Then there is another rough patch: but as the evening ends and the people realize they can do much more than they thought they could.

It helps that Ramsey finances the redecoration of the restaurant, buys new stoves when necessary, sometimes brings in consultants. He doesn’t, however, become a substitute cook. He becomes the coach, the truth teller, the cheerleader.

The secret to a good restaurant? Care about the food. Use fresh ingredients. Pay attention. Play to your strengths. Name the problem and then rearrange the relationships. Have high expectations. Communicate openly, honestly and clearly.

There will be swearing.

It wasn’t just the restaurant that was transformed, but all the relationships in the families, staff and customers.

You’ve probably gotten the analogy by now. I won’t take it any farther. Ramsey is not exactly to the restaurant industry as Jesus is to the church. He’s had a few failures, after all. But if one of the central roles of the community is hospitality: to give people a place where they know they will be taken care of – Chef Ramsey illuminates real challenges for churches and our personal relationships. We too should be able to serve good spiritual food that feeds the body and the soul.

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