Montclair Presbyterian Church

Friends,

As a rule I don’t do much to promote the celebration of Mothers’ Day in the Church, because I am mindful of the loneliness and sadness such celebrations cause those who do not have children, or who have difficult and dysfunctional relationships with their mothers.

I am aware, however, that Mother’s Day began not as a way to sell greeting cards (as is commonly assumed) but as an attempt to get mothers organized around working for peace. The idea was that for women the experience of motherhood might create a bond of solidarity that could transcend national aggression and lead to peace.

The suggestion that motherhood leads inevitably to nonviolence is a bit sentimental. Having two children did nothing to prevent Margaret Thatcher from leading the UK into the Falklands War; nor did motherhood prevent at least four US Senators (Feinstein, Lincoln, Landrieu, and Clinton) from voting to authorize the United States’ invasion of Iraq. Still, I tend to hope that empathy born of shared human experiences can lead us–regardless of gender or family situation–to seek peace, and for that reason I applaud the aspirations of Mothers’ Day’s founders.

In honor of Mothers’ Day’s original intent–and keenly aware that motherhood isn’t the only pathway into an experience of the kind of empathy and human connection that leads to peace–I’ll leave you with this statement from Another Mother for Peace, which my late aunt, the actor Donna Reed, helped write and promote during the Vietnam War:

I join with my sisters in every land in The Pax Materna—
A permanent declaration of peace
That transcends our ideological differences                                             
In the nuclear shadow, war is obsolete                                                                       
I will no longer suffer it in silence
Nor sustain it by complicity.
They shall not send my son
To fight another mother’s son                                                       
For now, forever, there is no mother  
Who is an enemy to another mother.

God’s Peace to you,

Ben

Friends,

Here’s a confession. It’s not always easy to think of something pithy and spiritually moving and—well—pastoral in my “Pastor’s Pen” spot. Sometimes my mind goes blank, and sometimes it’s too full of different ideas competing for space on the page.

The latter issue seems to have been the problem for me this week, and every time I thought maybe I was distilling my thoughts on, say, the nature of “Truth” or the importance of Surprise in the spiritual life, the phone would ring or I’d start jonesing for a cappuccino, or I’d get distracted by the need to push paper around on my desk, or my mind would wander off into how I might use John Calvin’s commentary on the sixteenth chapter of Book of Acts for my sermon next Sunday (spoiler alert: Calvin’s commentary on Acts 16 speaks of the importance of surprise in the spiritual life; listen for it on Sunday).

I was starting to despair: what if I never got my good, solid, pastoral, spiritually-minded, serenity-imparting, God-revealing column for the Contact? Then I realized that the Divine is as alive in the enjoyment of a cappuccino as She is in high minded thoughts about theological trivialities, and the ability to God in the act of doing paperwork or in conversations with friends, is an important part of the spiritual life.

So, in the end, a column about my writers’ block is really a column about God, or at least it can be, provided I’m willing to find God in the various distractions of a slow day in the office.

God’s Peace,

Ben

Before we left on our whirlwind trip to France two weeks ago, Anne and I had to confront the fact that we hadn’t finished doing everything that needed to be done before we left. For example, I never got around to making a proper packing list, which was a little stressful. I tried to make it better by reminding myself that people have been living in France for thousands of years without any of my stuff, so if I forgot to pack something I’d probably be able to figure out a way to manage.  Anne never made it to the salon for a pre-trip haircut, so she told herself that she’d just have to get coiffed in France.

Anne’s hair solution came with a hitch, however. There were a lot of salons in Evian, the town where we were staying, and how does a person choose which salon is the right one when one is only passing through and doesn’t really speak that much French anyway? We spent a bit of time sizing up various salons, trying to guess which one would provide a good haircut, and trying to discern which was more like a Super Cuts operation. Personally, I would have given up and waited to get my hair cut at home. And that might have happened, except that on our last day in Evian we went to the train station to make reservations for our journey to Paris and the woman who helped us with our tickets was really nice and she had good hair.  She spoke English, so Anne asked her where to get her hair cut in Evian.

Before long, women working in various capacities in the train station got involved in the conversation. The gathered council of women arrived at a consensus opinion: Nadine over at N & C Salon on the far side of Evian, a part of town we had yet to explore.

So that’s where Anne went. She got a good haircut, but more than that she had a great time. Nadine was kind, and she brought in her English-speaking daughter to translate. Together the three women had a lovely time together, all of which was made possible because Anne was willing to connect with a train station employee as more than just a seller of tickets.

By reaching out to the ticket seller as a human being who got her hair cut, Anne created a community for herself in Evian, and it strikes me that we should be doing this everywhere we go. We should think of the random people we meet–wait staff, cashiers, people walking their dogs, fellow drivers on the road–as human beings with needs and wants similar to our own. And when we do, we will create community, and in that community will encounter Christ.

And, as a bonus, we might get a good haircut.

Peace,

Ben

Dear Friends,

I loved hearing from Rabbi Michael Lerner on Sunday. Rabbi Lerner is a person of great wisdom and insight. His words have had a profound impact on people from the streets of Berkeley to the White House, and it was a deep privilege to have him in our pulpit.

One of Rabbi Lerner’s ideas that I find particularly attractive is his suggestion that our society needs to develop and articulate what he calls a “new bottom line”. The idea for a new bottom line is this: under our culture’s current value structure the bottom line refers to financial success and/or influence and power, such that an enterprise is deemed valuable and successful when it makes money or has a broad impact. In contrast, a new bottom line would see an organization or enterprise as successful when it furthers the wellbeing of humanity and fosters the health of creation. This concept is similar to what is articulated eloquently in the late Lou Mudge’s book We Can Make the World Economy A Sustainable Global Home, which a number of us are in the process of studying.

It’s a beautiful idea, but for me there is a rub: I have an easy time dreaming of a world where the business ventures of the “one percent” are guided by compassion and environmental sensibility. It’s nice when the new bottom line applies to others and is someone else’s responsibility, but I suspect it applies to us as individuals as well. This means that if I am going to take the idea of a new bottom line seriously, then I have to start judging myself not by how much money I earn or by how much time I spend in the office, or by how much influence I have, but by the extent to which my life is making the world a better place for all God’s children and, indeed, for every living thing.

That’s a little bit harder, but I decided to give it a try this week when I had a meeting in Pleasanton on Monday afternoon. It would have been an easy enough drive–to Pleasanton before the commute hours, and then home with a reverse commute. Had I driven I would have had an extra hour or so in the office, where I would have been productive in one way or another. But living according to a new bottom line compelled me to get to my meeting using a combination of bike and BART, which was a little bit complicated. I had to pay close attention to a time-table. I had to make two transfers. I had to find a place for my bike on the train, and I had to trust that the church office would survive without me.

My journey was not entirely unproductive in the traditional sense–I wrote this Contact piece on the BART, for example, and I provided pastoral care to a Salvadorian immigrant who had been physically assaulted by her boss–but mostly, living by a new bottom line meant I had to readjust my expectations of what should be accomplished in a day of working, and that wasn’t easy. In fact, I found myself feeling kind of sorry for big corporations. If it’s hard for me to adjust my life to embrace a new bottom line, how much harder must it be for a corporation like Monsanto, or Halliburton, or DuPont? Yet they must change. The survival of the planet and the wellbeing of humanity depend upon it. And I must change as well.

The takeaway for me is this: living according to a new bottom line, valuing that which heals the earth and nurtures the human family is not just something for the big cats. Each of us must change our value systems. Each of us must reorganize our priorities. In the end humanity isn’t decided between the one percent and the lower 99. All of us are in this together and each of us must do our part to embrace the new bottom line.

Peace!

Ben

Dear Friends,

This Sunday we are welcoming Rabbi Michael Lerner to our pulpit. Rabbi Lerner is the editor of Tikkun magazine and is the author of several books on the intersection of spirituality and progressive politics. He is a spiritual leader of international repute, whose message resonates with folks of all different faith backgrounds.

After celebration, Rabbi Lerner will be leading a discussion on his work with the Network of Spiritual Progressives, and organization with which I am personally affiliated (I sit on their board of spiritual advisors). Through the Network, Rabbi Lerner is attempting to affect profound and real change in our nation and world. This is exciting stuff. I hope you will join us for celebration and for the discussion after.

God’s Peace!

Ben

Friends,

I’ve taken a few days off to spend time with some friends from Scotland who are visiting (you may have seen us wearing kilts on Sunday), so my remarks for this week will be brief. In lieu of a regular weekly column, I’d like to recommend a film I’ve seen recently.

The Chorus (Les Choristes) is a French film made in the tradition of European movies that are relatively uncomplicated conduits of hope and joy. Part of me wants people to think I only see films that plumb the complex depths of human depravity by taking on subject matter of grave importance, but it’s not true. I do watch those kinds of movies from time to time and I enjoy them, but I’m also a sucker for the occasional extra helping of sweetness that has me crying tears of joy. That’s what this film is. It will make you want to believe in the goodness of humanity and it will remind you of the power of music. I absolutely recommend it. The film streams on Netflix. Here’s a link to its page on IMDB.

Enjoy!
Ben

Friends,

At the beginning of the manse renovation project, I told myself that it would be fun, on occasion, to share pictures of the remodeling progress in my weekly Contact space. So far, it has happened only once; this is mostly because the work is progressing at so dizzying a speed that I missed what I’m sure would have been a few interesting updates and photos. I’ll try to make up for that now.

Here is a photo of newly-installed sheetrock in the great room. As you can see, it is in the process of being taped and mudded in preparation for painting.

Here is a photo of the kitchen with the cabinets installed, waiting for a counter top, which my brother Morgan will install because (as Leonard Nielson has said) every house needs a story, and for this house, we will tell the story about how the pastor’s brother, who is a luthier, installed the kitchen counter in exchange for some Victorian-era redwood paneling Leonard salvaged from a renovated church building in San Francisco, which said fraternal luthier will use for sound boards in future guitar projects. It also happens to be true that the counters will be made from a sustainable and green product called Paperstone, with which no one currently working on the manse renovation has worked, but which my brother installed in his own kitchen.

Here is a photo of the main bathroom, in the process of being transformed.

Here is a photo of the hallway, anticipating paint and trim.

This is exciting. Not only will this be a lovely pastor’s residence, but it will go a long way toward making our congregation both economically and ecologically sustainable.

With a Grateful Heart, Ben

Dear Friends,

Geneva is my favorite city. This may come as no surprise to those of you familiar with my fondness for John Calvin and the history of the Reformation, but there was a decade (between 2001 and 2011) during which I visited Geneva six times. Two of those visits were intentional pilgrimages, when I sought to engage myself spiritually, not just with the Calvinist reformation, but also with the pre-Christian paganism that marked the place before Christianity arrived, and with the modern Ecumenical movement centered in Geneva, which, I hope, will define the future of our faith.

I want to go back to Geneva, and I want to take folks from Montclair Presbyterian Church with me. I’ve long wanted to lead a group of progressive spiritual pilgrims on a pilgrimage similar to the personal pilgrimages I have made, and it seems that this congregation just might be the right group from which to draw those fellow travelers.

I’m thinking of something simple, relatively inexpensive, and short. I would be your teacher and tour guide, we would stay in the simple accommodations of a retreat center outside of Geneva, and the trip would be short enough to be combined with other travels in Europe, but not so short that it could not be used as a stand-alone trip.

If you are interested in exploring the possibility of joining me for such a journey (and if you’d like to give some input into the trip’s design), please consider joining me for an informational/organizational meeting on Saturday, February 6 at 10am in the Thornhill Room. If that day doesn’t work for you, but you are still interested in the trip, that’s fine–we’ll have other meetings. If you do think you can make it, please let me know so I can make sure that we have enough coffee.

Let’s do Geneva!
Ben

On Sunday, Talitha preached a sermon on baptism in honor of “Baptism of our Lord Sunday,” a little known church festival that follows epiphany each year. Each January, when I hear the story of Jesus’ baptism, I know that Christmas is finally over. It’s a bittersweet annual moment made somewhat easier at Montclair Presbyterian Church by the presence of the Pacific Boychoir, who generally give us a final Yuletide serenade on the second Sunday in January.

But I hope the mystery, joy, hope, and peace of Christmas will abide all the year round that that each day, Jesus will be born anew in the Bethlehem of each heart. To that end, I’ll leave you with a poem that may be familiar to you: “When the Song of the Angels is Stilled,” by the pastor, theologian and civil rights hero, Howard Thurman.

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flocks,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

Peace, Ben

By now you’ve probably heard that over the weekend a group of well-armed, self-described “patriots” decided to occupy a wildlife interpretive center near Burns, Oregon as a way of protesting federal land management policies in general and, in particular, the prosecution of two ranchers who–taking wildfire mitigation practices into their own hands–set fire to several dozen acres of protected wilderness area. The protestors–all of whom (as far as anyone knows) are White men–have vowed to occupy the building for “as long as it takes” (whatever “it” is), and to use their considerable arsenal of firearms, if necessary (the definition of “necessary” being extremely subjective and open to interpretation in this case). So far, there has been no confrontation between law enforcement and the folks who have occupied the wildlife refuge’s interpretive center.

I have been following this story with an interest that probably borders on obsession, not because I have strong opinions about land use policies on Federal land, but because the case has cast racial inequality in the United States in stark contrast, especially coming (as it does) just a few days after prosecutors in Ohio refused to press charges against police officers involved in the shooting death of Tamir Rice, a 12 year old African American kid with a pellet gun, who was shot mere seconds after a White police officer showed up at the park where Tamir was playing.

Naturally, there are big differences between the two cases, but still, it’s hard not to avoid the fact that American law-enforcement officers showed no restraint in the case of a child with a non-lethal weapon, but are exercising extreme caution in a situation when the perpetrators are White, armed, and have threatened to use violence. Which is crazy-making–not that law enforcement are taking their time and acting with prudence in Oregon, but that similar caution was thrown to the wind in the case of Tamir Rice (and Eric Garner, and Michael Brown, and Freddie Gray, and hundreds of other Black people who die every year while interacting with American Law Enforcement personnel).

As I watch the story unfold, my sanity is sustained by the humor with which so many Americans are responding to the situation in Oregon. So far I’ve only seen one professional comedian (Larry Wilmore) address the topic, but social media are awash with satire. It is as if Twitter and Facebook have given a platform for the collective American Jester, who uses humor as a means of speaking truth to power, and it has been entirely therapeutic to laugh while considering issues of such serious consequence.

For example, users of Twitter have invented the (admittedly borderline offensive) hashtags #YallQaeda, #VanillaISIS and #YeeHawed to use in reference to the gun-toting, wildlife-sanctuary-occupying, self-described members of a well-regulated militia. For more examples of the humor that is preserving my sanity, follow this link.

So my New Year’s resolution is to keep laughing, and in the laughter to discover new ways to seek peace, to work for justice, and to live in the Kingdom of God.

Peace, Ben