In My Lifetime

Virtual Church

A lot of my time these days is spent thinking about and "doing" Virtual Church.  Yes that's a confusing and diverse topic.  I recently spent a Sunday morning sermon at MCC Toronto and a workshop at the MCC Region 3 and 5 Conference trying to explain what I mean by that term.  It's complicated because everyone I meet seems to have their own idea of what it means.

Some people think it means podcasting sermons.  And it certainly can mean that.

Some people think it means webcasting church services. And it certainly can mean that.

Some people think it means multi-site congregations all seeing the same sermon broadcast from a single location.  And it certainly can mean that.

Some people think it means having a church service in Second Life, a virtual world based on gaming technology.  And it certainly can mean that.

Some people think it means archiving workshops or classes or lectures on various points of theology. And it certainly can mean that.

Or a Facebook page, or a Skype call, or a Twitter account or, or, or, or......

And in the end, the real question is .... How does Virtual Church move from technology to communion with God and our fellow human beings?  And what does it mean to be church anyway?

This post is just a beginning for beginning to post on the subject.  I'm very interested to hear what others think about the topic, "What is church?"  We know it's not a building, a denomination, a theological position, a charismatic leader.  But what is it?  Stay tuned and add your comments.  I'm looking forward to exploring the subject.

Active Waiting: A Queer View of Advent

The peace of Christ is coming into the world, once again.  Yesterday marked the beginning of Advent for Christians who follow a Lectionary calendar.  If you're keeping up it's Year B in the Revised Common Lectionary.  The readings for yesterday were grim and menacing.  An angry, name taking, bum kicking God that we can't seem to figure out if we want to come near or go away from. This angry image of God reminds me of how I felt as a child when my father was really angry with me.  I was terrified of him and yet I was so hurt that he withdrew his love from me in his anger I just wanted to run to him and wrap my arms around his waist and cry and beg him to love me again.  Needless to say, this is not a helpful image to me as a 52 year old lesbian struggling with health issues, time constraints, fears about the economy, not understanding why I have so many wonderful projects and jobs and calls to ministry in my life.

Last night I read the sermon of a close friend who spoke about the concept of hope enfolded in our duty to "actively" wait this advent.  I got such a clear image of the difference in standing around, shuffling feet, passing the time until my issue is addressed, my email is responded to, my phone call returned.  But it's a very different thing to live more fully into the Serenity Prayer and "actively" wait.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I canno change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.  So what if I've made the decision that there ARE some things I can do to change the injustice of bigotry and hatred toward people who are gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and transgender (GLBT).  I live as an out lesbian, I stand up for civil rights for all people, I critique my own community's understanding of bisexual and transgender issues, I work for equal marriage rights for everyone even as I am outspoken about the pitfalls of reproducing the heterosexist dominant paradigm with all it's attendant power dynamics issues.  I call myself "queer" sometimes to shock people, sometimes to make the GLBTQI (yes there are more!) alphabet soup more palatable, and sometimes to refer to a theoretical space called "queer."  And in all those three cases I'm just strapping on the word and wearing it like a souvenier.

Queer is not GLBTQI, queer is not homosexuals having equal rights to marry, queer is not who I have sex with or how many or how often.  Queer is tearing down the power structures that trap people in oppressive systems that beat them down and stifle their creativity and spirituality.  Queer means walking through life doing power analysis on every structure, system, institution and relationship in my life.  Queer means working for justice at every turn.  And maybe most importantly, queer means using my privilege as a white, educated, middle classed woman to work for justice for those who are oppressed by MY privilege.  Yes I need to work for equal treatment and an end to homophobia.  But I actually am duty bound, I believe, as a Christian, to work HARDER for those who are oppressed by my privilege.    I can't just strap on the name queer when I want to or when it suits me.  I need to live queer, be queer, work for justice queer.

So I look at my life and I do what I can.  I do whatever I can on each day at each juncture.  And while I'm waiting, and I will surely have to wait for the results of my labour, I work for justice in another area.  Yesterday I wrote a response to what I percieved to be short sighted letter that I thought promoted hate toward people whose religion is Islam.  I wrote my response and that was what I could do yesterday. Last night I stood over the body of a man who had lived with his transgender partner for 40 years and said prayers for him, for her, for my friends who loved him, too.  Today I can write this blog and begin to articulate what I learned from my friend's sermon about active waiting and responsibility and what it really means to be queer.  Tomorrow and Wednesday and Thursday and on will provide more opportunities.

A week ago tonight I sat in hospital all night waiting for blood transfusions to be delivered into my body.  I watched the bag of blood, I called the nurse when the alarm went off, I kept awake to be mindful of the infusion line and be sure it was not kinked or clogged, I watched movies and did my best to busy myself and remain calm and not fight what needed to happen.  I spent a whole night awake, waiting, watching, listening and keeping my mind busy so I didn't become more of a burden on the nurses who were caring for me.

That was active waiting, much like the waiting of pregnancy.  Women who have been pregnant have a special understanding of active waiting.  Taking care of their bodies, preparing the home, just getting through the day when tiredness and physical pain slows her down. And the family prepares and buys and rearranges the house to make room for the new addition.  These are just a few examples of how actively we await a pregnancy.

So what if we make a decision this Advent to actively wait for justice by working for justice at every turn.... not just for our own issues, but by using our privilege to help others?  Waiting, watching, working, praying.  Let's have a very queer Advent that causes us to look at the power structures around us and evaluate anew what we can do... one day at a time. And then do it, do something.... one day at a time.

It's snowing and the wind is howling.  The US is in a recession.  Our neighbors are hungry and frightened.  Let's work together.

The peace of Christ is coming into the world again.  Thanks be to God.

Venti Nofoam Latte Please

 

My friend and former classmate Mary Cat sent me this You Tube clip this morning. Lillian and I watched it with horrified recognition.  We counted the similarities and accurate depictions.  Among my favourite were:

• The bumper stickers
• Reserved parking close to the door for those in authority
• All the doors locked except one but you have find out which by trial and error if you're new.
• People who just look you up and down and turn away
• Being embarrassed by calling attention to being "new"
• Being asked to fill out personal information in order to participate
• Calling attention to the tip jar
• Hidden restrooms

All these things resonate with me.  As I look at the list I made above I'm thinking about all the ways we "screen" people and do not provide the basic needs that folks have to feel welcome and "get what they came for."  I think what struck me most soundly was that a retail location providing a product to the market relies on the value of that "product" to bring people in.  And yes of course it relies on branding, ease of entrance to the store, availability of restrooms and other services that make the experience pleasant and enjoyable.
I found it interesting that the special "language" that one is expected to learn just to place an order at a Starbuck's is not challenged.... but I digress.
What I'm really thinking about is this.... to what extent to people who come to church expect to get a "product" and expect to walk away satisfied?  And to what extent is this a reasonable expectation?  Should coming to church be an "exchange" transaction?
Sure I think there are some real issues to deal with there.  But the point of this little video regarding just the points of "welcome" and "hospitality"  are genuine and poignant. 
What IF the new church plant I'm working on took these things to heart?  Would it make a difference? I wonder.

Recovery Sunday in Chicago

Sermon preached at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church, Park Ridge, IL
Recovery Sunday, September 24, 2004 by BK Hipsher

Wisdom 1:16-2:1, 11-22
James 3:16--4:6
Mark 9:30-37
Psalm 54

Collect: Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly; and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold fast to those that shall endure; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Let us pray:
Great mother/father God, who fills us with a love that quenches all thirst and satisfies all hunger, come into our hearts and open our minds so that we may have eyes to see and ears to hear your word to us today.   Amen.

I have been asked to speak today as a person in recovery for this special Sunday service to celebrate recovery from addiction.

The readings we used today are the regular lectionary readings for this Sunday.  I would defy you to find more suitable readings for a special service called “Recovery Sunday”.  The themes that run through them are a survey of addiction and recovery.  From the opening collect to the Gospel reading it is a very excellent overview of the triggers and the process of addiction followed by the prescription for recovery.

People in recovery sometimes refer to addiction as trying to fill  “a God sized hole” in us with something else.  It is one of the explanations that some use to explain why there is never enough.... never enough booze or drugs or money or sex to fill that hole.  I have come to believe this “hole,” this YEARNING to be filled with God and be in communion with God, is placed in us BY God... so that we will seek that intimate union with our creator.  Yet much of our theology articulates, as does our opening collect today, the Augustinian dichotomy of humanity and spirituality.  The prayer seems to set up an either/or thought process.  Either we are anxious about earthly things or clinging to things heavenly... either we are fixated on things that are corporal and therefore constantly in the process of passing away or on things that are of the spirit and therefore eternal.  Notice I said seems to set up this dichotomy, because I do not think that is the intention nor do I believe this is even possible for us in a human form.

Our Hebrew scripture reading talks about making a covenant with death.  What an elegant and accurate description of addiction and addictive process.... a covenant with death.  Death of not only the body... but of the spirit, of relationships, the death of our potential to live out what we are called to be in God’s realm here on earth... the death of hope itself.  This reading brilliantly describes the ego out of control and on a rampage, an ego that is so arrogant that it believes itself is the only legitimate recipient of enjoyment and pleasure and power, and always at the expense of others.  “...Let our might be our law of right for what is weak proves itself to be useless.”  What a perfect description of the addict and alcoholic.... an egomaniac with an inferiority complex.

The Psalm sounds like the addict’s prayer, bargaining and begging – “God if you’ll just get me out of this one I swear I’ll do better.  It wasn’t my fault, THEY were after me!  Please God get these people off my back, it’s not me, it’s them.  If they would just act right and treat me right, I wouldn’t need to drink.  If you’ll just take care of them God I’ll be fine.”

When Jarrett and I had our first discussion about what scripture passages we would use for today he asked me if I had any ideas.  I said, “Well recovery people that I know love the book of James”  .... and don’t you know, James is one of the lectionary readings for today.

How different our world would be.... how different our church would be.... how different our understanding of God, our theology, would be ... if we really believed the opening words from James 3 that we heard read this morning: “Where there is envy and ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind.  But wisdom is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy... a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace.”   This is the antithesis of addiction.  And this is the opposite of what we are taught is desirable and good from the point of view of the world.  Who among us has not cultivated a spirit of ambition and a drive for success!  What drives us toward this insatiable hunger for more?  Our hunger for more drives us to envy what others have, to take what we believe is due us, to live in our privilege without fully appreciating the ever-present corollary that every privilege has.... the corollary oppression that it establishes.   Our “cravings... are at war within” us.  The pride we feel in our privilege is not pride in who we are or what we can accomplish for God, it is FALSE pride that separates us from God and from each other.  When we place our desires for anything of this world over our desire to be united with God and each other, we have set up what is translated here as enmity or more exactly in the Greek hostility with God. 

Our Gospel reading from Mark shows us in stark detail just what this kind of arrogance and self centeredness looks like when it plays out in our faith communities.  The disciples, as we are often want to do, are walking along the road WITH Jesus.  This just blows my mind. God incarnate is physically walking along with them, teaching them, sharing meals with them.... and what are they doing?  What we would be doing!  ARGUING! Arguing who would be first and who would be last, who has privilege, who is the best, who is closest to God.  Who is in and who is out.  And Jesus the wise says to them...”Whoever wants to be first must be last and servant of all.”  Now wait just a minute.... and he wants us to welcome children?  But they make so much noise in church.  I wonder if we ever considered that children sometimes make noise in church because what they are trying to say is more relevant to our spiritual health that what is being said from the front!  What is called for is ego deflation at depth.

In recovery circles we talk about this principle of spiritual development as learning to be a “worker among workers, a friend among friends.”  Addiction drives us to need to be the best, the smartest, the greatest and to have recognition of our superiority.  Yet the prescription for recovery is the same as the prescription for spiritual growth... the first shall be last and servant of all. This does not mean that I become a doormat.  God did not make me to be trampled on nor did he make you to be trampled on.  Humility does not require humiliation.

One of the favorite books that is read by people in twelve step programs says “Our real purpose is to fit ourselves to be of service to God and our fellows.”  Twelve step programs are not religious, not affiliated with any sect, denomination, creed or organization ... neither endorses nor opposes any causes.  So don’t misunderstand me.  I am not mixing Twelve Step programs with religion.  But I am saying that some of the very sound advice and wisdom contained in the suggested steps for recovery would make better Christians of us all.

You see, alcohol was the only thing that ever truly cut me off from a relationship with God.  When I drank, for a few minutes I could forget that God was constantly knocking, constantly asking to come into my heart and fill me with the love for which I so longed.  I was trying to fill a God sized hole with alcohol.  And there was not enough of it in the world.  Because that hole inside my soul can only be filled with the love of God.  The pain of loneliness in my heart can only be soothed with the presence of God’s light inside me and I can only fill that hole in me by loving you and allowing myself to feel loved by you.

And so my friends here it is in a nutshell.  I have a space in me that is made for God.  I can only know that I am whole by looking at the mirror of that relationship in the pattern of my relationships with you.  In other words, if I am living in right relation with you, I am living in right relation with God.  If I am judging myself and putting myself down or judging you and putting you down, I am making judgments on God’s handiwork.  Judging leads to ego driven actions that cause the pain of this God sized hole to become unbearable and so we have only these choices, try to fill it with addictive behaviours so that we no longer have to look at the broken relationships in our lives or turn to a Higher Power by clearing away the wreckage of our past and seeking a relationship with God by being in relationship with each other.

Friends we live on both planes... spiritual and human. It is our condition in this life.  If we allow ourselves to be seduced by the idea that being human is somehow disgusting we will hate our very selves.  This self hatred is what leads us to the egomania of addiction, the idea that we can live in this world without help, without true intimate relationships, without support, without the love of God.

If you find yourself in the grip of an addictive process today, go and get some help, do the work, give up the ego and find a relationship with a Higher Power that can transform your life.  And if you love someone who is addicted, go and find your own recovery and let go of the ego driven idea that you are and need to be their saviour.  Remember, even on airplanes we are instructed to “place the oxygen mask on ourselves first before trying to help others.”

When we set our minds on God we set our minds on living in right relation with each other and with creation.  In surrendering our will to God we experience ultimate freedom.  In letting go and loving God, by loving our neighbors as ourselves, we experience the sweetness of what Jesus called God’s realm here on earth among us.  When we get out of our own way, deflate our egos and really try to love each other as we are loved, that God sized hole begins to fill with Gods love.  Perhaps WE could take a page from 12 step programs in elevating that little word WE to a greater standing.

Nothing happens in 12 step programs alone...
1st Step:  We admitted we were powerless...
2nd Step:  (We) came to believe a power greater than ourselves...
3rd Step:  (We) made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God....
There’s a short version of the first three steps that seems as appropriate to lighting our path to spiritual growth as it is to helping us recover from addiction. 
It says:    I can’t
   God can
I think I’ll let God

Glory to God, whose power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.  Glory to God from generation to generation, in the church and in Christ Jesus, forever and ever.  Amen.

The Way it Ought to Be

It really is possible... right now, not later. It's possible for young and old, families and singles, black and white, gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexual people to come together in a room and sing and pray and have church. I can tell you for sure it is possible. I experienced it this week.
I am in the process of beginning a candidacy for ordination in the Metropolitan Community Church. I attended the church where I hope to do that work over the next year this very weekend for the first time. Lots of things were just like any Anglican or Episcopal church I've ever attended. And some things were decidely not the same.

The music was generally better, more relevant, more engaging. The sermon was masterful and theologically challenging. Yet the little things caught my eye and as the days pass along I keep thinking about the candles on the altar. These were not in the traditional brass or sometimes silver candlesticks I'm used to seeing. The candles were not the usual church supply variety. No these were exciting candles, two on each side in the style of wire images of a person holding up two tea lights, seemingly dancing around the altar carrying the light. And in the middle a lovely glass oil candle burning clean and clear, a strong flame never faltering.
The other things that caught my eye was the comfortable chairs, each one equiped with a visitor card and pencil. Not one single chair without one, everyone having an opportunity and invitation to identify themselves complete with instructions to fill it in and put it in the offering plate... an invitation to offer one's very self to God's work in the church.

Under every seat was a hymnal, not every other one, everyone. And beside the hymnal were pocket packs of tissues. I just marveled at that. What gentle care for a congregation to make welcome the visitor with such a simple item. What a lovely fine detail. How warm and loving. And then I thought about it more. What does it mean to sit in a church where weeping in joy or grief or sheer relief is welcomed, even expected? Suddenly I felt a weight on my shoulders. I felt the anguish of the people who never feel welcome in church. I felt the ache of the partner of a gay man or lesbian at a funeral where they are never acknowledged as the lifemate of the one in the casket. I felt the anguish of trans people who cannot come to church and worship God in community dressed the way they feel most beloved, most authentic, most vulnerable.

I needed a Kleenex myself. So I reached for the package.

Today I realized how angry I am. And how tired I am of hating the people who persist in perpetrating the spiritual violence of exclusion from the household of God. I just can't do it anymore. I need the energy to work for justice. I want to learn to love them, to see the Christ light in them. But today, the best I can do is just not waste energy hating them. Because there are people out there who don't know God loves them, who have been told by every church they've ever attended that they are abhorent to God, an abomination and evil. I need the energy to make a place for them to come and worship, to have their children baptized, a place where they can be married in church, a place where all their loved ones can mourn their death and celebrate their lives. I can't afford the drain of hate anymore. I need the energy to do the work.

Perspectives on Reality

I love Niagara Falls. I never tire of it. It's never the same. No matter how many times I drive by or walk by, coming or going, I love seeing every time. In some ways it's like seeing it for the first time.... that is, when I really look at it.
My greatest pleasure is showing it to someone else. And the rarest of ALL pleasures is to be present to someone's very first glimpse of it, that moment when it just takes your breath away.
It's all in the perspective... how I feel about it. When I walk along rim of the Niagara River Gorge I see the panorama of the Rainbow Bridge, the American Falls, Goat Island, then the Horseshoe Falls. I hear the people chatter and jockey for position for just the right picture of themselves against the backdrop of the falls, speaking in every language imaginable, on every trip. I can't understand what they're saying, not the exact words, but I know what they're trying to communicate. "Isn't it magnificent!", "No move this way, no that way.... lean over, smile!" I see a couple, one trying to take a picture of the other against the thunderous backdrop. "Shall I take a photo of you both then?", I ask. They heartily agree and hand me the camera. All smiles. And everytime I am awed by the knowledge that this image will be a part of their families memories for decade, generations. The day they visited Niagara Falls.

Then we board the Maid of the Mist and travel by boat right up into her embrace. The roar blots out most of the conversation. The taped tour the plays on every passage ends as the boat strains against the current and moves into the middle of the horseshoe, water nearly surrounding us. "Ladies and Gentlemen, THIS is Niagara Falls," it says. Most of the time spontaneous applause. I look at the faces of the passengers, awestruck, enraptured by the reality of pushing up into the middle of this kind of power, a terrible sweetness the child of wonder and fear.

Later we enter the elevator that will hoist us 500+ feet into the air to the revolving dining room for a 360 degree journey around the top of the Sklyon Tower. We look down on the water now. Seeing Lake Erie in the distance to the south and the river flowing north to Lake Ontario that we can see in the north. Another perspective, above the roar, above the crowd, circling the area, looking down upon the whole of it.
And the best part of all is sharing it with someone who does not have the luxury I have of seeing it weekly. I do not walk along the top of the gorge everytime I am home. I only ride the Maid of the Mist a few times a season, only when someone comes to visit. And we rarely have dinner in the Skylon Tower, again only when we have guests.
It started me thinking about faith and the wonder I feel when I try to share that faith with someone else. Whether as part of a christian faith community or some other kind of community that enjoys a shared experience of hope, I feel my own faith most acutely when I share it with someone else. It made me wonder why I rarely invite a visitor to experience the awe of knowing how deeply I feel loved by God. A different perspective is always helpful.
Maybe my faith is a bit like the falls. When I am just home and trying to navigate the city in summer amid the tourists, I often avoid the falls. Too slow, too congested, too much trouble. But when guest comes to town, damn the torpedos, full speed ahead. We park, we walk, we ride the boat, we have dinner in the sky. I love sharing the experience.
What if I invited more visitors into my faith experience? I wonder if it might be like showing someone else the falls... I get more than I feel like I give. Sharing it.

Learning to Breathe

Sometimes I feel like I am drowning... drowning in sad news, bad news and bad press that demonizes who I am at the very core. I wonder what can I do about the war in Iraq, about the fighting in Lebanon, about explosives made from sports drinks. I wonder how I can comfort my friend whose babies died yesterday and what I can do to support the new students coming in to school in a couple of weeks. I keep thinking of the phrase, "...whose manner of life presents a challenge to the wider church..." and of all the people I know and love who voted yes to the resolution that wrote that insidious, ambiguous judgment into the life of the Episcopal Church, not in the 1950's, not in the 19th century but right here in 2006. I feel like I'm drowning. What are my choices? Can I learn to breath water? If I had enough faith could I walk on water like Jesus and calm the storms of life for myself and others?

Today something wonderful happened. Amid the muck and pain friends gathered for house church Eucharists, two of them. An eclectic gathering for an experimental service met in the home of a friend who is vacationing far away from us... yet she was there with us! We carefully placed the computer on a small table, in her chair right there among us. We made the voice/video connection and exchanged hellos and had a tour of her house there at the beach hundreds of miles from us in distance. And then we had our service, all of us together, participating by speaking and listening to each other, our friend's face and voice there in the circle among us participating in turn.

Later we met in another home to celebrate a Eucharist together and pray for the safety of a surgery this week for the host, for the healing of another dear friend and for the greif of loss felt by yet another. We laid hands upon the one who will have the surgery and her partner praying for strength and courage and patience. We prayed for peace for ourselves and for the world.

And I felt better. I can breathe again. For awhile I can float in the muck and just pray, float in the muck with my sisters and brothers who get scared and forget that if we just lay back and float, breathe and pray, we can survive and we can help support others.

It is not a choice between drowning or being smashed against the rocks, not a choice between learning to breathe water or summoning enough faith to walk across the sea. I think the answer is learning to float in the muck, bouyed by the love of others.

We Stood at the Turning Point

Trusting God has never been my strong point. Until recent years I have even had the arrogant idea that I can and must run my life making decisions about what path to take to insure my financial and social success in the world. Trusting that God is available to guide the course of my life has not come easily.

This week I found myself in a very interesting position driving a van full of people who were depending on me to get them where they needed to be. I was driving a road that I had never been on, did not have a map, but had a very sophisticated GPS programed with the correct address for our destination. As we followed the unknown road the pavement ended and a gravel road became a dirt road cut right through a cornfield full of 10 feet tall corn. Here we were on a one lane road with only the green corn on each side and then the road ended. We had to turn... left? right? turn around and go back? My GPS was undaunted. "Be prepared to turn right" my english accented female voice cheerily intoned from the unit. And so I turned right folllowing the dirt road to a paved road and on to the state highway that would take us to our destination.

I was struck by how trusting I am of a machine communicating with satelites in space, dependant on maps loaded into the hard drive. And I was reminded that I have my own internal GPS for making the turns and planning the routes my life will take. God is always available to guide me. And like the GPS in my car, I must turn it on, tell it where I want to end up and then trust that still small voice inside me, even when it guides me off the pavement, into a cornfield and then to a crossroads where I must make a decision to turn this way or that.

So for today, I think I'll try to listen a little more carefully to the voice of the Holy Spirit guiding me to live out God's will for my life. God, like my GPS, has the capacity to "recalculate the route" if I ignore it or misunderstand. The real issue is am I willing to listen and try to follow the path.