Montclair Presbyterian Church

During December I tried to stay out of the shopping frenzy that is often a part of the Christmas season.  Try as I might, though, I did go to Target one evening to look for toys for our “adopted” niece and nephew.  She is 3 and he is 5.  They are the children of some of our best friends who are in a bi-racial marriage.  Both are from Spain and he is of Congolese descent.  Their children are a beautiful blend of both of them.  If you were to look at them and try to categorize them you might think they were what we call “African American.”  While none of this information is important in regard to who they are, it is important to my description of what happened at Target.

In the first five minutes in the toy section, I immediately saw what I wanted to get 5 year old Gael.  He and I have spent many days playing baseball in our backyard during parties and barbecues.  When I saw the bat, the very soft, heavy ball and the “T” stand, I knew that was the gift for him!  Easy Peasy!  I put it in the cart and decided this whole thing would be a breeze.  Next I turned my sights toward finding a gift for 3 year old Naia.  What a rude awakening.  As I walked down aisle after aisle of “girl” toys, I was deeply dismayed by how many toys had pictures of blond hair, blue-eyed girls!  Some of them had pictures of brown haired girls, but always with very white skin.  Once I realized what was happening I began paying careful attention.  I stood in the toy aisle feeling broken hearted about the fact that this precious girl would look all around her and not see herself on any toys.

For years we have been hearing about how our culture, including television, ads, magazines,  movies, etc…is geared toward people with “white” or light skin.  For years work has been done by so many to educate, deepen awareness and change deeply formed habits.  Sometimes it even seems as if we are making progress.  But my experience before Christmas at a major retail store like Target made me feel as if we have taken 5 steps backwards.  All I could think about is how Naia could end up internalizing the images she is seeing on the various toys.  I know what you might be thinking.  You might be thinking, “Did she see the new dark skinned princess that Disney has created?”  The answer is, “Yes, I saw her, and she was one of several princesses so she didn’t stand out.”  While you may be thinking that is at least progress, I would both agree and disagree.  It’s progress, perhaps, but not enough and especially not enough given how much time has passed since we have become aware of the damage it does to children’s psyches to see blond hair and blue eyes held up as the “majority” or “preferable” or “sellable” image.  Disney isn’t alone in its transgressions.

Last night I went to a tribute for MLK, Jr.  In 1963 we heard about “The Dream.”  Why are we still seeing toys that worship and sell light skin and light hair?  Better yet, what we can do about it?  The only thing I could think of at the moment was to refuse to buy any toy that bought into the light skinned myth.  So, I bought her a toy computer instead.  There were no children pictured on the package.  Okay, my true confession is that it was pink and I try hard not to reinforce the color pink as a color for girls.  But, honestly, I think it was the best I could do under the circumstances.  I am still agitated about the whole experience even a month later so perhaps there is more I need to do.  Please join me in boycotting all toys that do not evenly represent children of color in their ads and on their packaging.  Naia and Gael are God’s precious creations, as are all children, and I want every child to see themselves as such without concern for skin color.

Yesterday in church I talked with our children about MLK Jr.’s idea of the Beloved Community and Jesus’ instruction that we love our enemies.  One of the kids volunteered to be my “example” and I asked all of the other kids to imagine he was as different from them as someone could be and then to describe those things to me.  They said things like, “He would be good at jokes because I am terrible at jokes; he would be good at sports because I am terrible at sports; he would like brussel sprouts because I hate brussel sprouts; he would be tall because I am not.”  Wanting to push them to some harder things, I pointed out that he would have spiked hair with each spike a different color.  We noticed that he would dress in very different clothes so they offered that he would wear all neon-colors and probably all leather and one of the kids added a plaid bow-tie.  We decided he would be very large since most of the kids there yesterday are on the small side.

After we created this very different person, I role played what would most likely happen when our kids saw him on the street.  All of the comments they might make to themselves or to a friend were voiced, including comments like, “What a weirdo or he looks like an alien or he looks scary or he looks like a total nerd or no wonder he doesn’t have many friends.”  I then told them that the way we can begin to create a different world is to approach people with curiosity instead of being afraid of someone or thinking someone is really weird because they are not like us.  Then I role played what I would say if I were to be curious rather than critical of the person that is so different.  I said things like, “I have never seen hair like that!  I wonder how he gets the spikes to stand up so high and I don’t shop in stores that have those clothes – I wonder where he buys his clothes and I wonder what his parents are like and if they are nice to him.”  By changing our criticism of someone who is different and becoming curious about them instead, we can literally change how we treat that person and so many others.

Imagine how much sooner Civil Rights might have come into being if the good Christian folk could have become curious about those whose skin color was different.  Imagine what might have happened in Nazi Germany if the good Christian folk could have become curious about those who were Jewish or gay or disabled.  Imagine what could happen right now in the US of A if we could all become curious about immigrants.  Instead of being curious we tend to have stories all made up in our heads about these who are “other.”  We tend to make up stories that include us being “right” or “better” or “more intelligent” or “harder working” or “more deserving” or “better than” in a variety of ways.  If we can let go of our need to be superior and instead cultivate our curiosity, there is no telling how much more effectively we will be able to build the Beloved Community – a place where all are given equal dignity, all are deemed equally worthy, all  are given equal respect and all are loved.  I hope you will join me this year in cultivating curiosity about all of those you meet throughout the year who are different from you.  When Jesus said we are to love our enemies he was referring to those who are “other.”  Loving enemies/the other sounds really difficult. Maybe it’s as simple as changing a habit!

Someone asked me recently how it is to have a whole congregation of people who I am responsible for caring for in a variety of ways, particularly when some of the people are experiencing deep pain.  My response was to say that one of the things I love about being a pastor is that I get to experience the whole gamut of life with people from births to baptisms, to birthdays, to illnesses, to accidents, to deaths, to retirements, to graduations, and to anniversaries.  Part of what I love about being a pastor is that at any given time and almost all of the time there is a beautiful mixture of joy and sorrow, growth and loss.  What a privilege it is to be walking with dear people through the various hills and valleys of life.

That was my answer on Thursday.  On Sunday when I stood up to preach, I found myself viscerally feeling the pain of so many whose faces I could see looking at me, waiting for some word of comfort or hope.  Most Sundays I am fairly articulate in my preaching and it comes from a deeply held place in me.  Yesterday was no different except that I found myself being acutely aware of how much I wanted my words to matter.  Everything in me wanted to be the comfort that I could see was needed by so many sitting in the pews.  Sometimes what I really want to do on a Sunday morning is circle everyone up, sing some songs, pray and have everyone look into someone else’s eyes and then exchange hugs.  Sometimes it seems like words are as inadequate as tennis shoes on ice.  Sometimes I want to fill the baptismal font with water and have people come up and gather around and remind people of their belovedness by sprinkling or splashing or dabbing water on them.  Sometimes I want there to be a full meal at the communion table and to have people just come up and sit down and stay awhile.  Sometimes I just want to light 1000 candles and sit in silence.

The best part about being a pastor is that the one thing I am sure I can count on each Sunday is that if I show up with an open heart and remember that I am not God, the Spirit shows up and takes us all where she will and it’s exactly where we needed to go.

While Facebook and blogs and online news outlets have been full of posts regarding the Sandy Hook Elementary School massacre last Friday, I was not ready to say or write anything.  The horror and overwhelming grief were too much to process while trying to figure out how to say something coherent.  Even though my daughters are both in college, this is the kind of nightmare every parent is afraid of and knows is possible while trying to believe it will never happen.  Is there a parent anywhere who doesn’t empathize to the point of imagining what it would be like if it were their child?  Is there a parent anywhere who has already experienced the death of a child who doesn’t go through a fresh wave of grief?

Because I am a pastor and because Sunday morning comes just after Friday, I knew when I woke up yesterday morning that I would need to say something when I stood before the 250 people gathered.  What made it more difficult was that yesterday we were celebrating the third Sunday of Advent and the word was Joy.  Oh my.  Not only was it the Sunday we celebrate Joy, but it was also the Sunday when our Adult Choir was singing Handel’s “Messiah.”  In the depths of my being all I could think about was wanting to be silent.  Sitting in silence and lighting candles sounded like a good idea to me as I continued to feel God’s broken heart and my broken heart.  Knowing that silence was not going to happen, I prayed and the word that came to me was “paradox.”  We were gathering to listen to one of the most glorious pieces of music ever written and to celebrate Joy and paradox is the only way to understand why we would do that in spite of the chaos.

Paradox is the word that describes how we can feel deep joy and deep grief all at once.  Paradox is how we can feel the chaos of the world and hold on to deep hope that this world is not all there is and that transformation is ongoing.  Paradox is how we can love someone so much that we give them permission to die in peace.  Paradox is how we can love our children so completely and allow them to make their own mistakes and eventually leave home to become adults.  Paradox is how we can believe Christ comes into the world, becomes incarnate, every time someone shares a coat or food or a home or helps the widows and children and those who are ill, while at the same time believing Christ is still coming.  Paradox is the season of Advent.  The days are short and chaos is all around us and yet we are hopeful because the Christ child is about to be born in a stable.  It’s a birth we celebrate over and over again.  Every time we celebrate it we proclaim again that with the birth comes hope.  Hope that peace and justice will replace chaos and injustice.

The recent events and the ongoing violence that continues to plague our cities (more than 120 people have died by gun violence in the city of Oakland in 2012, many of them young, black males), certainly challenge the hope we proclaim.

Paradox is realizing that the Christ is born anew in US.  We are the ones we have been waiting for and we are the ones in whom the Christ becomes incarnate in this world.  It is up to us to continue to work for peace and justice.  May we encourage one another on the long road toward peace.  May we continue to pray for the newly brokenhearted and for those whose hearts are breaking again.

Yesterday was the Sunday for the Children’s and Youth Pageant at our church.  There were more than 30 participants in the pageant who ranged in age from 3 months old (the baby Jesus was a live baby, little Jennica, who was born in September) to 17 years old.  To say it was like herding cats would be a gross understatement!  As the rehearsal was happening on Sunday morning before the service, it was utter chaos for the first 15 minutes as kids were arriving in costumes and sharing costumes and changing costumes and not arriving and, in some cases, literally bouncing off the walls!  There was music that went with the pageant and it was the first time the Jazz trio was rehearsing with the kids and the kids were forgetting the words and then someone remembered the huge poster board with the words and so a parent volunteered to hold up the “cue cards” and the rehearsal continued.  The sound was not quite right and microphones were adjusted and it was time for the big event.

Anyone looking at the chaotic scene before church would have certainly questioned the sanity of the one whose bright idea it was to try to pull something so ambitious off in the midst of the busiest season of the year.  Anyone looking at the chaotic scene before church would have questioned how it could be good for kids to have to learn lines and learn songs and learn where to stand or sit and get dressed up in costume and have to sit still and focus and listen to others when they are already wired to the hilt.  Anyone trying to park within a half a mile of the church was most certainly questioning the benefit of trying to do something that involved so many at a time that is so busy.

Why do a pageant in the midst of this time of year?  If you had been there yesterday morning you would understand why.  Out of the chaos something magical happens.  One might even say out of the chaos one sees the miraculous.  Maybe the word miraculous should be saved for cancer that suddenly disappears or someone saving another person’s life or a story of giving that is beyond our comprehension.  But on pageant Sunday, somehow miraculous is the word that comes to mind.  Five little star babies dressed in pink ballerina outfits squirm on the steps and then come to attention when it’s time to sing and they open their mouths wide (even while making faces) and sing the most beautiful sound.  Joseph sits down next to Mary and sighs the biggest sigh and leans over and puts his elbow on his knee and looks completely perplexed (probably because he is trying to figure out how long he has to sit there!).  The narrators look and sound as if they are 20 instead of 13 and 15.  The stars are transformed from 9 and 10 year olds into miniature adults who know how to project and act.  The paparazzi belt out their lines and go from being shy boys to leaders.  The bodyguards are just plain cool.  The shepherds look as though they really are surprised and their faces convince everyone of their openness.  And when they all open their mouths at the same time to sing their songs it really does sound as if there are angels in our midst.  Even the star babies who are singing “expelsous” instead of “excelsios” sound perfect.

Every person sitting in the congregation is yanked out of their own chaos just for a few minutes and reminded of the miraculous.  No wonder we do pageants at this crazy time of year.

Not only has December arrived, but so have Winter storms, shorter days, and animals whose fur has grown thick with the anticipation of colder weather.  For those of us involved in church, the Season of Advent has also arrived.  The word “advent” means “coming.”  Yesterday we celebrated the first Sunday of Advent which is always the Sunday that encourages us to look for signs that God/the Light is indeed breaking into our chaotic world.

When I think about God/Light breaking into our world, I am reminded of one of my professors during my time at Princeton Seminary who taught a course on God and Human Suffering.  He shared with us his image of God in the world.  He described God sitting in the second story windowsill of a house, legs dangling out, fingers trying to hold on to the sill while leaning so far out of the window.  (Yes, this is obviously an anthropomorphized image of God, but hang with me.)  He went on to say that while God is leaning so far out of the second story window, She is also trying to get the attention of the world walking by on the street below.  She shouts, she tosses things down, she waves her arms, she does whatever necessary to get the people to glance up and look and listen.  Now and then, according to the professor, people see and hear and take notice and actually participate with God in bringing healing and change and justice to the world.  While it may not be a perfect image, I took that course 22 years ago and I am still captured by it.  Especially during this season of Advent when we are told to look for signs of God’s incarnation into our world.

A week ago today I was flying home from Argentina after a trip to Buenos Aires for vacation and study leave.  On the last leg of the flight I was sitting in the middle seat of the exit row.  Sitting on my left next to the window was a man who was traveling alone.  When I sat down, I greeted him briefly and then I “put on” my airplane self.  After 21 years of being a Presbyterian pastor, I have learned not to engage my airplane seat mates in conversation.  When I was first ordained, I engaged everyone I met in conversation!  I couldn’t wait until that part in the conversation when I could reveal that I was an ordained pastor!  What ended up happening on airplanes, though, was that when I got to that part and told the person what I did, the person heard that as an invitation to spend the remainder of the flight talking about him or herself.  You would be shocked at some of the things total strangers revealed to me in those conversations.  Despite the fact that we were not alone or in a private situation, people treated it as a confessional and I heard all of the ways in which they had deceived their spouses or cheated on their taxes or embezzled money from work or had terrible thoughts.  On one flight I remember a man telling me about an ongoing affair he was having and how he felt badly for his wife but not badly enough to stop the affair.  When the flight ended and he finally stopped talking, he thanked me for listening and then walked off the plane feeling much better.  That was the turning point for me.  I was no longer willing to let someone I had never met confess and feel better because I was a total stranger and there was no need for them to change in any way.  From that time on, I created an airplane self that does not engage in conversation.

On my flight last week, though, the man who was sitting next to me was carrying some kind of heavy load.  I could feel it.  He slept a little and then I think he started to pray (he didn’t make any noise, but you know how you can just tell sometimes?).  In the middle of the flight he texted someone.  I committed seat mate sin and snuck a glance at what he was writing and all I saw were the words “praying for a miracle.”  I knew it!  I knew he was carrying some kind of heavy burden.  I wanted with all of my heart to turn to him and ask him if he was okay but my airline self wrestled my other self to the ground and would not permit conversation of any kind!  I did not talk to him until it was time to leave and I wished him a good trip.

The Light was trying so hard to break in to the world through me and I refused.  God was practically falling out of the window to get me to open my mouth and share this man’s burden and I refused.  Who are we waiting for this Advent?  We are the ones through whom God becomes incarnate.  Or not.  Today is a new day.  I, for one, will be looking for the ways in which God wants to shine through me to reach others.  How about you?  How is God trying to get your attention today or this week?

Some days I overwhelmingly feel the kind of sorrow I imagine God feels.  One of my professors in seminary described God as “weeping” and the image has been with me ever since.  When I heard yesterday about the 16 year old Pakistani girl who was killed by her parents for looking at a boy and when I heard this morning about 6 billion dollars being spent on the election in the US, all I could do was think about our weeping God and how things have gone so awry.

The news report I heard yesterday about the 16 year old girl in the Pakistani part of Kashmir was that a boy passed by the girl’s house.  The girl’s father had warned her not to look at boys and when the boy passed by the house, the girl looked.  The father grabbed the girl and beat her for the shame she might eventually bring on the family.  Apparently, the beating wasn’t enough.  Some combination of mother and father then grabbed acid and poured it all over the girl literally melting her hair and head down to her skull bones.  The mother’s response when asked about it was “It was her time to die.  It was her destiny.”  This is as stark an example as I can imagine of religion gone wrong.  There is no God who would direct parents to so violently harm and kill their child over any kind of “truth.”  What is particularly egregious in this case is that they were abusing and killing her because of what she “might do” in the future.  They were afraid she might bring dishnour on the family eventually.  And this event doesn’t bring dishonour?  The mother and father have both been jailed and we can only hope that they will receive the harshest punishment possible.  These Muslim parents have not understood the essence of Islam if they think they are justified in their abuse.  Neither do Christian parents understand the essence of Christianity if they abuse their children in order to get obedience from them.  My heart aches this day for all the ways in which terrible people use religion to justify their own cruelty and abuse.

When a different news report this morning said that estimates are finally out regarding how much money has been spent on this year’s election, I wanted to weep.  Six billion dollars.  Billion.  Six.  A true democracy is not built upon wealth and so we can be fairly certain we are no longer enjoying a democracy.  We have staggering numbers of people right here in the US who are homeless and hungry and yet we are going to accept six billion dollars being spent on the spread of misinformation and malicious lies?  How much of the six billion was spent on “attack ads”?  Here we are one day before the election and there are still significant numbers of people who are confused about what is fact and what is fiction.  There are still significant numbers of people who feel as though there is an attempt to prevent them from voting.  There are still significant numbers of people for whom English is not a first language, who have lived in the US for years, who are hard-working and good citizens, and who find it too difficult to read a ballot in English.  The deepest concern, however, is the idea that corporations are treated like individual people in regard to free speech.  This election was the first we have seen since the passage of Citizens United.  Even more troublesome than the amount of money spent on misinformation and malicious lies is the question about who owes what to whom now that so much money has been spent trying to elect “them.”  Money is rarely given freely so now we are in a situation where those elected owe those who paid to have them elected.  So much for democracy.

If we have not learned anything else in this horrific election cycle, I hope to God we have learned that we must overturn Citizens United and restore our democracy.

If we have not learned anything else in the history of religions, I hope to God we have learned that we must protect all children from the fanaticism of their parents.

As God weeps this day, I weep with her.

In last week’s blog, I mentioned that I would be leading a Women’s Retreat over the weekend on the theme “Go Out Into the World in Peace.”  One of the first things I said to the women gathered as we began our retreat together was that I am not an expert in peace.  My life is often as harried and stressful as anyone else’s and yet I took on the task of facilitating deeper conversation about what it means to go out into the world in peace.  The first evening I had them list words or phrases that they thought defined or at least described peace.  In addition, I had them tear out images from magazines that spoke to them of peace.  We then laid out all of the images on 3 different tables so we could all see the images.  As I predicted, a number of the words and images had to do with stillness, tranquility, solitude, quiet, beauty, and rest.

The 3 primary content areas for the weekend were focused on peace with self, peace with others, and peace with God.  What the women did not know when they signed up for the retreat was that the weekend would be an experience of rolling up our sleeves and getting to work.  For diving into the idea of peace with self, we looked at the scripts we were handed in our families of origins.  We did some work on looking at the scripts we were handed, how we have re-written those scripts and what part of our scripts we have not yet written.  From there we talked about two avenues for examining ourselves.  One avenue is the 4th step in 12 step programs, taking a fearless moral inventory.   The 2nd avenue is what theologian Walter Burghardt called “taking a long, loving look at the real.”  Part of what we are trying to identify in ourselves are those things we might be holding against ourselves or carrying around unnecessarily.  We talked about bricks and how if you set down one brick (something you hold against yourself), pretty soon you are building walls.  Part of doing the work of peace is trying to keep the bricks out of your life and your relationships.

We talked more about bricks in the context of peace with others.  We looked at mind maps and talked about how much of the way we live in the world stems from unconscious reactions or triggers.  Living into peace with others includes being able to identify our buttons or our judgments or our refusals to hear something different from someone.  When we become aware, we are better able to choose our responses.  Most of us are not great at identifying our emotions in the midst of interactions with others.  If we could learn to identify emotions that arise, we could make more conscious choices in terms of how we respond.

In our third content area, we talked about peace with God and did some work on identifying our early images of God and how they have changed or remained the same.  We also did some reflection on things we might be holding against God or things God might be holding against us.  Once again, awareness was a key aspect of living in peace with God.

Our day culminated in a reconciliation service to which each one of us came with a rock or stone in hand.  The rock was a symbol of any bricks we are carrying or holding onto in relationship with self, others or God.  Each one was invited to either lay the rock down  or to continue to carry the rock.  Being ready to lay the rock down implied a readiness to forgive someone or let go of a memory or hurt or the commitment to do those things.  Holding on to the rock meant there was still more work to do and the rock was taken as a reminder and encouragement to do the work.

By the final morning, we had a service together in which we heard the story of Moses’ encounter with God in the burning bush.  The invitation to Moses was to stop, to pay attention, to listen and see with new ears and eyes and to go away strengthened by the encounter.  Maybe going out into the world in peace is really about encounter.  If we will stop long enough to pay attention to ourselves, others and God, we just might be transformed and better equipped for the tasks ahead.  Peace might just be a verb.

Next weekend I am leading our annual Women’s Retreat on the theme “Go Out Into the World In Peace.”  For weeks I have been pondering, cogitating, germinating and chewing on various aspects of peace.  What exactly do I know about peace or what has my experience been of peace?  What do you know or what have you experienced of peace?  What I have realized in my pondering is that we seem to be under the impression that war and peace are polar opposites and that they are either/or propositions.  In fact, I wonder how many people would define peace as the absence of war and define war as the absence of peace?  Instead, I think both are much more nuanced and to some extent complicated than we imagine.

Do you remember when Sarah Palin made the comment about Russia during the last election?  After her comment, reporters went out and interviewed Americans about geography.  Those interviews were then posted on the internet.  Watching them was deeply disturbing though I am sure many people also laughed heartily as they listened to answers that were beyond ignorant.  Sometimes I envision similar interviews being done about war.  The questions could be about America and war.  My guess is the answers would be as disturbing in their ignorance as were the answers about geography.  During the first Presidential Debate two weeks ago I was reminded about how bizarre the United States is when it comes to the defense budget.  Republicans tend to run on a platform that includes increases in an already inflated and overblown defense budget.  As a result, the Republican candidate can usually claim to be “tougher” on terrorism or evil or whatever the enemy is named and therefore willing to engage in whatever war is necessary.  The Democratic candidate, on the other hand, tends to run on a platform that includes a decrease in defense spending, a withdrawal or reduction in troops around the world and a more efficient armed forces.  The Democratic candidate or incumbent as is the case this year, can claim to be tough while at the same time attempting to achieve peace.  The conversation itself is so misleading because it assumes that war is about armed combat and peace is ending or refraining from armed combat.  If only it were that simple.

What do you know about the US military presence and action in Honduras, for example?  Do you know that we are increasing troops in Honduras and that the DEA is also involved in armed action in Honduras?  Are we at war with Honduras?  Absolutely not and in fact, most US officials would tell you that the US military presence is all about protecting Honduran interests and peace.  How exactly does that work when the US is the largest importer to Honduras and exporter from Honduras?  The concepts of war and peace are far more nuanced that we have allowed in conversation for some time.

I am not sure yet what I will have to say about peace at the retreat I am leading this weekend.  One thing I will not say, however, is that peace is the absence of all conflict.  We want to believe that idea and we hope against all hope for a time and a day and a life that would be absent conflict.  Whatever peace is, I know it does not simply appear or fall from the sky or come wrapped as a gift.  Peace is something for which you have to be willing to roll up your sleeves and get your knees and hands dirty.  It requires work that is exhausting in every way and leaves one feeling spent.  Peace is not for the fainthearted.  We need to find a different way to portray it so that we can do away with the misconception that peace is about blue skies and sunflower filled fields and flute music playing the background.  Maybe at the retreat this weekend we will craft a new definition for a word that has lost some of its meaning.

For two years now I have served as Interim Head of Staff at Montclair Presbyterian Church in Oakland.  When I was interviewing for the position, the Interim Search Committee was telling me there is a wide diversity of theology among those in the congregation.  My response was to smile politely and nod my head in understanding because, after all, I was somewhat familiar with the congregation.  In hindsight, I had no idea what they were really saying!  What I heard them say was instantly filtered through the lens of my own experiences in a variety of churches at that point.  Diversity?  Sure, I know diversity…I am so appreciative now of how honest they were being then about who they really are as a congregation.

This wonderfully creative, sharply intelligent, deeply spiritual, amazingly artistic group of people are far more diverse than any congregation I have served in my 21 years of ordained ministry.  One of the first inklings of their theological diversity came up related to prayer.  Right after I arrived, I began visiting with some of the older people in the church who were either not able to get to church or who were hospitalized.  It is second nature to me to pray for someone with whom I am visiting and so I was surprised when some of the people I was visiting asked me not to pray!  They explained that prayer was not meaningful for them or they simply didn’t believe in it.  This happened several times in the first couple of months and I realized that prayer was not many of them were used to experiencing.  As I did with many other topics, I started asking people what their experience with prayer was in the congregation.  The majority of people said they are uncomfortable praying themselves and many people said they are simpy uncomfortable with prayer as a practice because it seems too much like magical thinking.

As I was listening to various thoughts and opinions about prayer, I was also hearing that the congregation was feeling disconnected from one another and they were missing their feeling of connectedness and community.  After talking with the Celebration Committee (the committee responsible for overseeing all aspects of worship), I began doing “Prayers of the People” during the Sunday service.  For weeks afterward, there were several people who came out of the service with tears in their eyes who said they were so moved by the prayers.  There were also people who came out expressing their discomfort and the fact that when we do the prayers, the service takes more time.  The criers outweighed those who were uncomfortable.  I prefaced the prayer time by saying something about community life and how important it is for us to share our joys and concerns with one another so we can pray for each other during the week.  It took some time to include those who were reticent to share, but over time many people have participated in sharing their joys and concerns.  Almost instantly, the community felt more connected because they were hearing what was going on for people.

The struggle with prayer continues to be about what we think we are doing.  When someone asks us to pray for their friend with cancer, do we think God is going to cure that person of cancer?  Is that how we pray?  Recently someone asked for prayer for a friend who is pregnant with triplets and having complications.  I wanted with all my being to pray for the safety and health of those babies and the mother, but when I actually prayed for her I asked that she receive the best care that can be offered and that God would be with the babies and the parents and provide them with what they need.  When someone who does not like the prayer time was expressing concern about what we are doing, I asked the person to pay careful attention to what we were saying.  “If you hear me engaging in magical thinking, please let me know because that would be helpful feedback.  I think what I am doing is asking God to give each person enough strength for each day to handle whatever comes.  It sounds different for each person and situation but I think that’s usually how I pray.  There might be the exceptional moment when I feel stirred to pray for a miracle and I usually know when that happens.”  Are we supposed to pray conservatively or with abandon?

I find I continue to walk a fine line with my own understanding of prayer.  On the one hand, I am one of those people who believes deeply that all things are possible.  On the other hand, I have had some harsh experiences in which I understand that God does not often intervene in the natural course of life.  What is also true is that prayer encompasses much more than what we do on Sunday mornings in community.  A great deal of prayer is about listening and discerning from day to day.  My hope is that I have been able to model a relationship with prayer and God that is not wrapped up and tied neatly in a bow but is more like shredded newspaper stuffed in the cracks of a wailing wall with deep hopes and longings and fears expressed all at the same time.  May it be so.