Monday, March 29, 2010


I've picked up a new habit, on clear and warm nights, of sleeping in the hammock in the backyard. You sway in the breeze.
I had a spring break... some of which was ridiculous amounts of driving. But SOME of which was camping, and many bonfires, and beach time and woods time. I climbed several trees. My favorite was a pine out by Julian, CA... a tall and thin one, on a windy day, and I became part of the wind as it rocked the branches up there.
Also, on the shorter side of things -- citrus trees are flowering and ripening in southern CA. The scent is a-ma-zing.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Grounding - part 3

In my favorite class this semester (philippians philemon and colossians) I encountered an idea that belonged in my second-favorite class (material theology & consumer culture) and my brain just about EXPLODED with major ideas.
So the Paul/Pauline class had an essay on ritual in early (pauline) christianity which dealt with that religious (spiritual) experience in which, practicing a ritual such as baptism, Lord's Supper, fasts or feasts with your religious community, you all feel as if you have entered "mythic time," leaving the ordinary everyday behind and entering the realm of your God. This is, if not a universal experience, at least one common to most religions, and labeled as "experiential transcendence." It helps us all feel closer to our God and to immortal life, but also ties us together as a people who have experienced this together.
Experiential transcendence is linked to a reordering of the dominant symbols and images by which one lives, and this in turn can lead to greater integrity and more courageous moral actions." *
Thus helping the early and persecuted Christians to live radically, sharing all their possessions, serving one another without regard to status, gender, or race, NOT TO MENTION surviving as a persecuted minority under an unhospitable (to say the least) Roman empire. If you agree with this analysis of what it is experiential transcendence could do for people, it must have done a LOT for the early Christians.

Fast forward to today, and I think we are experts in experiential transcendence. At least, Californians are, judging from the per-capita consumption of tibetan prayer bowls, yoga pants, and spirituality books. In the Christian world we are no less experience-oriented. You can go shopping for church-experiences and monastic retreats (and I have). There are fields of scholarship and books written for pastors about how to maximize the "worship experience" for everyone involved, through musical changes, more focused architecture, methods of preaching, and methods of prayer. But the "reordering of the dominant symbols" of our lives? Not quite. Our dominant symbols, before spiritual awakening, were clothes and appearance. Our dominant symbols post-ashram are yoga pants and appearance. Post-youth-group-retreat, your symbols are probably going to be a WWJD bracelet, and maybe even a fish tattoo if you're REALLY hardcore. Some modification, yes, but seldom quite at the level you could call "reordering." Why is there such a disconnect?
In the context of Marin County's conglomerate religion of eco-simplicity and spiritual serenity, I ask WHY do we buy a $4.50 cup of purifying herbal organic African tea (sereni-tea), sip it meditatively, and then walk out the door into our SUV stickered "diva going green"? (I kid you not - you can't make this irony up). Where did we disconnect our spirituality of purity from our actions of consumption?
In the context of Christian sacred practices, and the untouchably holy Service Project Trip, I ask WHY do we buy a dozen plane tickets to Mexico, get "outside ourselves," serve and worship with the poverty-stricken... and coming home (with tourist crap and a vague intention to "be more grateful") proceed to pass by Mexican day laborers in our own neighborhood? How did we disconnect the spirit of service there from the spirit of justice here?

Every once in a while someone actually does something somewhat approaching the ideal of "following through." But for the most part we put our donation in the monk's bowl, walk out the door of the retreat center, and get on with our lives. Preachers and yogis alike.

In Consuming Religion, Vincent J Miller contends we are "spiritually... trained to seek, search, and choose but not to follow through and to commit" (142). We don't know how to Stay, to let our religion have its implications on our life, and to be transformed.
I'd call this one out as a dangerous failure of community. With church compartmentalized into a once-a-week experience (in the early days, "church" used to be your new family, political identity, and social position i.e. lack thereof) it is something you can leave and come back to, and we no longer hold one another accountable to what we profess. Yoga classes are a perfect example of a spiritual tradition turned into a commodity -- where you pay $10 for an hour of elevated consciousness, and never need to have anything more to do with those people or even with those principles -- but do we do much better in the church? Many people come, put $10 in the offering plate, and consider themselves spiritually full for a week or so. Do we offer a life of the imitation of Christ every day of the week? I know I want to live it more than once a week, which of course is why I'm going to be a pastor, but I bet that won't be enough either. I want to sink my feet in, grow, and be completely transformed.

*quote: "ritual and the first urban christians" by Louise J Lawrence in After the First Urban Christians, eds Todd D Still and David G Horrell, p 113. the essay refers here to Robert J Lifton and Eric Olson, "symbolic immortality" in Antonius Robben, ed., Death, mourning and burial 2004. I used footnotes in a blog - I must really be a geek. At least I resisted the urge to use proper and complete bibliographical form.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Grounding - part 2

I just feel it necessary to announce that my travel bug (that which got so thoroughly exercised during my january train travels) has been thoroughly used and exhausted, and that I don't intend to go anywhere for a while. I am not going to go anywhere new, I am not itching to see any new sights... now if you know me you know this is unusual... but here it is. No adventures planned. It's time for you to visit me (as a few have already done - yay!) or just send me a postcard from your adventures. I'll be the host for a change, and the appreciative admirer of others' adventurousnesses.
I have a friend who says he "collects experiences" and that's super, and I've done a lot of that too -- I've spent significant time on the road in that pursuit. But the experience I am out to get right now is not an Amtrak or even a bike ride away. It's here. It's that of rooting - grounding - sticking my feet down for a hot second, or maybe even a month. It is so different from the adventuring (and the leaving) I have been so familiar with.

Mary Oliver said: (in a poem available here)

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, “It’s simple,”
they say, “and you, too, have come
into the world to do this, to go easy,
to be filled with light, and to shine.”

Right now I want to Stay awhile, like the trees, sinking roots down (roots of repetition and ritual and deep reverence and prayer), not being pulled away to forge new adventures, but connecting. Sometimes barefoot and actually digging my toes in, sometimes just sinking the spiritual toes into God's word (made flesh and humus and book and dust and lemon tree and bread) around me.