The first time I was asked to be the Christian representative at an interfaith gathering, I was at a loss. What to say? How not to offend? I was teamed up with a rabbi and an imam to give the invocation. The rabbi blew the shofar and offered a beautiful prayer in Hebrew. The imam sang in Arabic. I read from Psalm 133: ”How very good and pleasant it when kindred live together in unity!”

It all went just fine, but still I felt that I had copped out. Sure, the Hebrew scriptures belong to me as a Christian. But if I’m asked to represent Christianity, shouldn’t I bring in at some point – dare I say it – Jesus?

There has been good reason for Christians to be self-conscious in interfaith settings. For too long, we’ve imposed our ways on the religious scene. Even today, the planning of  an interfaith service often takes on a Christian format, with readings from other traditions added in. We still need to be sensitive to our history, and even our unconscious assumptions.

So it was with a bit of trepidation that I agreed to be part of World Religion Day this coming Sunday. Observance of World Religion Day began forty years ago in the Baha’i tradition as part of their fundamental belief in unity and religious cooperation. The theme of Sunday’s event is: ‘Religion Should Be the Cause of Unity’ and there will be representatives from the world’s major religions speaking on the spiritual principles in our respective traditions that are ‘a motivating force leading to world peace predicated on unity in diversity.’  As I said, “Yikes!”

In some ways it’s easy: go back to Jesus. From the moment the Zoroastrian magi arrived at the home of the little Jewish family with a newborn baby, interfaith dialogue had begun. Jesus’ interaction with Samaritans and Canaanites were boundary-crossing revelations. (Actually, as is true today, Jesus had more difficulty with intrafaith relations, that is within his own tradition).

Things got harder as the centuries passed and Christianity got codified, creed-ified, and doctrine-ified. Conversion became the goal of missionary activity and other interfaith encounters. In this new day of mutual respect, we’ve had to learn new language, new behaviors, new ways of being together. And we have been doing that. We’re feeling more confident about talking and sharing about Jesus, about our beliefs, our traditions.

Still, representing Christianity is a huge responsibility. We Christians are not united in our beliefs. How can I speak for such a wide range of thoughts, interpretations, and practices: from Pentecostalism to Russian Orthodox, Southern Baptist to Episcopalian, from ELCA to Missouri Synod Lutherans, for heaven’s sake!?

The bottom line is that I can speak only for myself, as one who is a follower of Jesus. And that is what I will do. Because I do believe that religion should – and could – be the cause of unity. May it be so.

I had a different idea in mind for this week’s blog. But, as usual, I was behind schedule and had not put pen to paper, so to speak. Thankfully. Because there, on last night’s local news broadcast was our neighborhood: Cathedral Hill, San Francisco. The day-long Occupy SF protests had branched off in the evening and taken over the Cathedral Hotel, which has been vacant for two years. The plan is for California Pacific Medical Center to eventually turn it into a hospital.

What bothered me about the  coverage was the dismissive and almost gleeful tone in reporting the effect of the day’s rain in dampening the overall Occupy protest, along with the usual interview with an inconvenienced commuter. In the coverage of the hotel, the main interview was with an older protester who was unhappy with the behavior of other, younger protesters. No mention of the issues behind the takeover.

So when I got up today I was anxious to read all about it in the Chronicle. But the headline, ‘A Bit of a Wash for Occupy,’ signaled more of the same and the accompanying photograph showed a confrontation between police officer and two demonstrators. Coverage of the hotel was on the bad behavior of some of the demonstrators, the confrontation with police and eviction. Again, no substantive engagement with the issues. The SF Examiner did better. They actually addressed the reason the protesters took over the vacant hotel. It was organized by a group called Homes Not Jails, which advocates for the use of vacant and abandoned housing for people who are homeless.

I get it. The Occupy movement has its problems. It’s hard for those of us who need organizational structure and strategic planning to get our heads around a movement that prides itself on being unorganized. But here’s the thing: this chaotic groundswell of anger and energy is just what we’ve needed to rouse ourselves out of our disillusionment and despair. We have been stuck, but now there is – a  movement. A perfect one? No. One that is evolving? Yes. So how about if we look to find the positive aspects of what’s going on instead of the negative? And how about if we demand better from the media?

The Homes Not Jails protest was in our neighborhood, one block from our church. We worship among the homeless and the marginally housed. We walk past the men lined up to get into the SF Interfaith Council’s Winter Shelter. We support the SF Night Ministry, Welcome, and other organizations who feed, clothe, and shelter our neighbors. So this protest was about them and us – and it deserves, not only better coverage, but better attention from all of us.

There are complicated issues involved with the Cathedral Hotel. California Pacific’s plans for a new hospital are controversial in the Cathedral Hill neighborhood, as well as among advocates for St. Luke’s Hospital. Housing homeless folks in the hotel may  or may not be a good idea. But please, can we talk about it?

It’s time to be honest about heresy.

When I was a younger pastor, I was much more intimidated by the word. Planning worship for a conference in which my bishop would participate, I had to run the order of service by him first.  ”Only one problem,” he said. “You can’t say ‘In the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier; that’s modalism.”  I quickly racked my brain, trying to remember what modalism was; all I knew was that it was a (cue the scary music) heresy.

Since those days I’ve become less willing to back off just because someone invokes the H word. Especially when it comes to the use of inclusive language in the liturgy. So when a noted theologian (under whom I, in fact studied) says that those who want alternative names to ‘Father, Son, and Holy Spirit’ are ‘enemies of the church’ and implies that they are heretics, I don’t become alarmed. I’ve read enough about the arguments on both sides of the issue and I come down on the side of inclusive language. Having said that, I also believe that we still have work to do on this. It’s not just about the inclusion of feminine names and imagery for God, for example. It’s also about the use of non-gendered language.

And it’s about what we progressive Christians do with the Trinity. I have heard other clergy declare that baptisms not done in the traditional trinitarian formula,  ’in the name of the Father . . .’ are not valid. Here’s where modalism supposedly comes in. To use different names for God is to be anti-trinitarian and fall into the heretical view that denies the individual persons of the Trinity.

But, as the Rev. Ruth Duck, professor of worship at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary counters, ” . . . if the real task of trinitarian language is to open us to the reality of the God made known in Jesus Christ through the Spirit, we may need to go deeper than formulas to find the language of witness, thanksgiving and praise.”

Well I’m with her.  And if that makes me a heretic, then so be it.  I accept the appelation, and I call on other heretics to go deeper with me into how our language reflects and affects our faith.

In the name of God: Creator, Christ, and Spirit.

There are so many reasons to love the Epiphany season. First of all: it’s a season!  In my congregation, we observe Epiphany on the Sunday closest to January 6. How sad it would be to miss this wonder-ful, mystical, magi-cal moment in the Christmas story.  Just when most of the world (except for those cultures that actually observe Christmas on January 6) are putting away the decorations and moaning about the post-holiday letdown, here comes Epiphany! With magi and a star and fabulous presents!  What’s not to love?

I admit that I have a bias for Epiphany; it’s my favorite day on the church calendar. I waited patiently through the Twelve Days of Christmas until it was time to add the magi to the Nativity scene. I lit my Moravian star and brought out the amazing collectible plate that I found on ebay last year. 

What is it about this day that is so appealing? And why should we continue to think about it for a whole season (at First United we continue the season right up until Ash Wednesday; we’ve even decided to use the color blue, instead of the traditional green)?

Lest you think that this is simply my personal fondness for foreign men in robes bearing expensive gifts, let me explain my love of Epiphany.

1)  It illustrates the boundary-crossing nature of God, which we will see revealed in the life of Jesus. The magi were from a foreign land and of a different religion. Yes, I’d be even happier if at least one of them had been a woman. Still, they represent the wider world and remind us to look beyond our narrow enclaves of country, ethnicity, tradition, etc.

2)  To repeat from above: the magi were of a different religion, probably Zoroastrian. Epiphany is the perfect season to highlight our interfaith relationships in our communities. Following the lead of the magi, we are able to cross over into the realm of a different tradition and then go back to our own. The magi do not become Jews. Mary and Joseph do not become Zoroastrians.

3)  The story reminds us that the realm of God is not like the realm of Herod – or any other political system. We need to pay attention to our dreams when they tell us to beware of politicians’ promises and hidden agendas.

4)  There is mystery inherent in a star.  While we don’t have to take this story as a historical event and speculate about whether the star was a comet or the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn (either way, no celestial body would start and stop the way Matthew describes), we can still appreciate the wonder of the tale. Light guides us through the darkness; divine light guides us through life. According to a nifty little book I discovered this year called the Revelation of the Magi: The Lost Tale of the Wise Men’s Journey to Bethlehem,  the star was in fact the celestial Christ. The book by Dr. Brent Landau includes the first English translation of an ancient manuscript, possibly from the late 2nd century, and is a thought-provoking addition to the tale told by Matthew.

All-in-all, Epiphany brings us the Christmas message in a different way from the sweet Nativity of Christmas Eve, but an important way nonetheless. So if you’re feeling the post-Christmas blues, I encourage you to follow the star into Epiphany.

I love Dilbert’s reaction in today’s cartoon, when someone wishes him a Happy New Year: “I don’t celebrate the magical thinking that says one random point in the space-time continuum is somehow special.”

I agree with the Big D in a way. What’s the big deal with January 1?  Especially when we call September the new year, as in new academic calendar. In the church, Advent is the beginning of the new year. In my congregation, July 1 is the beginning of the new fiscal year. And in our multicultural society today, there are many ‘new’ years.

Be that as all that may, there is still something about January 1 that turns our attention to the past (what do I need to let go?) – and the future (what do I need to embrace?).  It’s about more than making resolutions, which seems to me to be more of an exercise in guilt-production. Some talk about setting intentions, and that’s better.

But what I have come to appreciate and find a more meaningful practice is that of asking for a word. I got the idea last year from Christine Valters Paintner on her Abbey of the Arts website. She reminds us of the ancient Desert Mothers and Fathers and how people would go out to them and ask for a word that would be their own personal bit of wisdom on which to ponder, pray, and live.

My word last year was ‘light.’  As I contemplated taking on the responsibility of being the interim executive director of the Interfaith Center at the Presidio, while also being the full-time past or at First United, I wanted to be able to stay within the ‘light of the world’ and to allow it to inform me in all my transactions and decisions.

What will my word be for the coming year? I don’t know yet. I like the phrase that Valters Paintner uses of allowing a word or phrase to ‘shimmer’ before me. And that is what I’m going to do – take the time for quiet pondering and reflection. Oops, that’s a resolution, isn’t it? Ah well, so be it.

Happy “random point in the space-time continuum”!

Quick – what did you get for Christmas last year?  No fair if it was an engagement ring or a puppy. I’m talking about the usual round of gift-giving that goes on at Christmastime. And no, this is not a screed against exchanging presents. I started thinking about this the other day when I was standing in line at the Whole Foods market. There was a riotous assortment of interesting things: Christmas ornaments that have seeds in them so they’ll actually sprout and grow, gift sets of organic lotions, holiday CDs, small poinsettias in decorative pots, etc. You know what I mean. This was stuff you’d never buy for yourself. This was Whole Foods’ attempt to help me find something for that person on my gift list who either has everything or who I just don’t know that well – which is cool; I’ve given and gotten my share of that kind of gift (hint: those growing ornaments looked awfully intriguing).

No, what this really got me asking myself was: What was the best Christmas present I’ve ever received? I was kind of surprised at how difficult this was to answer. I can think of a lot of good stuff – but the best gift? After rummaging around through a lot of memories, what finally came to me was remembering the process of my parents’ letting go of their expectations and abilities to buy gifts for all of us. Even when I had moved away and couldn’t come home for Christmas, there was always a big box filled with presents delivered to my door. Alas, the box kept shrinking (although they could never get over their addiction to the Swiss Colony catalog) and my mother was apologetic. Finally, I told her (and this was in all honesty), “You know what I’d really love you to send me? Some of your homemade Christmas cookies.” And that’s what she did – not for too many more years, but I did love those cookies.  As I look back, I think that was my best Christmas gift – from when I was little and helped decorate the cutout cookies to now as I remember those times.

What was the best Christmas gift you’ve ever received? Probably not something that was bought on impulse in line at the supermarket. Maybe not even a thing. I don’t know about you, but thinking about this helps me keep the season in proper perspective. It’s not about the stuff (OK, except for the cookies!).

Have a very blessed Christmas!

Going into the fourth week of Advent, our thoughts turn to Mary, the mother of Jesus. Growing up Lutheran, I learned that we were never supposed to talk about Mary. Too Catholic, we were warned. But then the cold war between the churches began to thaw. It was OK to admire her as an example of obedient servanthood – as long as we didn’t (gasp!) pray to her .

But then the feminist movement came along and Mary’s virtue’s of meekness, humility, and unquestioning obedience came under fire. Was this really the model of womanhood that we wanted to follow?! In recent years, however, women have come to see in Mary the feminine face of God. We use language about pregnancy, womb, gestation, labor. Mary, the meek and mild was transformed into Mary, the symbol of the birthing nature of the Divine.

Which is great, no question about it. But I think we often overlook another aspect of this woman whose real identity and personality have become overshadowed by the archetypal symbols we attribute to her. And that is Prophet. In the Magnificat, she sings:   Great and mighty are you, O Holy One; strong is your kindness evermore.
   How you favor the weak and lowly ones, humbling the proud of heart.
   You have cast the mighty down from their thrones and uplifted the humble of heart.
   You have filled the hungry with wondrous things and left the wealthy no part. ***

Her vision is of a time when God’s justice will prevail. A time when those on the bottom of the world’s heap will be as valued – with the same dignity, respect, human rights, food, shelter, clothing, affordable health care, quality education, meaningful work, fair wages – as those on top.The child who occupied Mary’s womb would have this same vision. As we move closer to the celebration of Jesus’ birth, we begin to see a Nativity scene with not just a virgin meek and mild with an innocent babe at her breast, but also a prophet clear and bold with a child who challenges us to turn the values of the world upside-down.

Ave, Maria!

*** “Annunciation and Canticle of Mary” by Marty Haugen. See www.youtube.com/watch?v=JAFMMITXTmI, which I can’t get enough of this week.

                             
   

I used to hate Christmas. I know; how can I be a pastor and hate one of the THE biggest days of the Christian year? But I did. The Christmas story was one of the major things that just rubbed me the wrong way as I was beginning to confront traditional beliefs about Jesus. Reading the Bible literally was not making sense. And even though my seminary education had enlightened me on the subject of the virgin birth and other translation issues, I still took issue with what I thought of as a fabrication. I knew that for most of the people in my congregation at the time, the story was ‘true,’ and I felt like a hypocrite standing up front reading it to them.

Thank God for scholars like John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg (The First Christmas) who made it feel OK to talk about biblical stories as myth – which doesn’t make them untrue, just not literal, which they were never meant to be anyway. I discovered that there are many people in the pews who are relieved to hear that they don’t have to ‘believe six impossible things before breakfast’ every time they enter the church. I know I am.

I don’t think I’ll ever be the ‘holly, jolly Christmas’ kind of person. But I’m not a Grinch anymore either. In discovering the message of the embodiment of the Divine in a human being just like me, I can appreciate my own humanity and my own connection to the Divine.  In taking away the necessity of believing in a full-up inn and a stable, I can see the connection of God with the poor, the homeless, the immigrant.  In the story of the coming of the magi, I can feel the wonder of a mystical star and an interfaith encounter.

Wow, I love Christmas! The real Christmas. I know I’ve said in earlier posts that I’d like to give Christmas over to the retailers and let us have Advent and Epiphany. But I guess I’m not so ready yet to give up. And I believe that there are many people out there who need to know that they don’t have to buy into the Wal-Mart version, nor do they have to think they’re supposed to suddenly be filled with Christmas cheer. Too many people suffer through the holidays because of what they don’t have or don’t feel.  Or they identify with the Grinch.

All I can say is, “I’ve been there.”  There are too many versions of the ‘true meaning of Christmas’ that just don’t cut it for me anymore. I’m so glad that I’m in a church that has a progressive outlook on this stuff. So I’m ignoring the ads, I’m doing a wonderful on-line Advent retreat, and I’m anticipating a fabulous Christmas Eve service.  And to top it all off, this year, in new appreciation of the Christmas story, I bought a Nativity set.  Joy to the World!!!

It was a wonderful night, although we were brought together by a horrific disease. This past week, I participated in an interfaith World AIDS Day service. It was held at St. Mark’s Lutheran Church here in San Francisco, where it has been held for the past several years. But this time was different. This year’s service was also co-sponsored by the Interfaith Center at the Presidio and the San Francisco Interfaith Council.

It began with Indian music by Vivek Anand, then a liturgical dance called ‘The Mourning,’  followed by a Muslim prayer  offered by woman from the Islamic Networks Group. A rabbi prayed the Kadish, the Jewish prayer for the dead. A Presbyterian minister invited us to name aloud or silently those who have died. Then Buddhists  from the Zen Center led us into silent meditation, followed by music by Vivek.

That in itself would have been enough. But then we heard from three ‘witnesses.’ One, a   twenty-something young woman who had been infected in the womb by her mother, who subsequently died from AIDS. Another, a man diagnosed 20 + years ago and given almost no hope of survival. Their stories were powerful testimonies to human strength and dignity and to faith and hope. The third ‘witness’ was a documentary film maker who has worked with orphaned children in sub-Saharan Africa. She painted both a bleak picture of the lives of these children, as well as stories of those who have endured and achieved success in their lives.

After each ‘witness’ there was a responder who had been asked to either come prepared with a prayer or a poem or to respond spontaneously to the story of their ‘witness.’  Each response was a witness in itself. Those of us in the congregation were transfixed by the courage, integrity and strength of all these individuals.

A blessing was then given by an Episcopal priest who prefaced his prayer with a bit of his own history of living with AIDS for many years. And we ended by singing ‘Lift Every Voice and Sing,’ often called the Black National Anthem, but appropriate in this setting as well:
Sing a song full of the faith
that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope
that the present has brought us

We had moved from Memorial through Stillness to Hope. It was a privilege to be on that journey.

Here’s my proposal: give Christmas to the retail businesses. Admit defeat and let ‘em have it. ‘Black Friday,’ 24-hour Wal-Mart, inane ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ in the supermarket starting in October – it’s all theirs.

I read that Americans spend 450 billion dollars every year on Christmas. That’s nothing to sneeze at. So, in an effort to support the economy, the church should step out of the way of this important, patriotic, secular season.  We should get out of the Christmas business and just keep Advent.

Advent is the antithesis to the Wal-Mart Christmas. As bargain hunters gird their loins for frenzied shopping, those who keep Advent hunker down for introspective waiting and watching. As malls put up giant evergreen trees illuminated with red and green lights, Advent-keepers light one candle and offer a prayer for hope in the midst of darkness. As stories are told of Santa Claus, who rewards good little girls and boys with expensive presents, another story is told of the one who ‘fills the hungry with good things, and sends the rich away empty.’

OK, maybe handing Christmas over is going a little too far. Still, Advent is the quintessential counter-cultural season.  We should embrace this opportunity to be witnesses to another way of thinking and living and being.  I recommend the promo video done by the Advent Conspiracy (http://ac.wcrossing.org/) as a good resource for shifting our thinking about the season.

Christmas doesn’t start until December 25th. That means there are four weeks of waiting and watching. So I’m going to go and set up my Advent wreath and get ready to light that first candle. Let the (countercultural) season begin!