personal but not private

Celebrating Maundy Thursday and Good Friday is a bother. It takes extra time out of a busy schedule and most of us have to work and/or get our kids to school on Friday so it’s disrupting to do anything religious on Thursday night.

Which explains why only 10 of us (including my 3 kids) showed up for the Maundy Thursday service at the church building. We had twice that number at our house on Good Friday: 11 adults and 9 kids. But we had a potluck dinner, the service was short (a little over half an hour) and interesting to the kids (they were happy to read Scripture if it meant they got to blow out candles afterward), and people felt free to hang out after the service since there wasn’t any work or school the next day.

But those two services taught me something. My faith may be personal but it isn’t private. It’s a journey that’s meant to be shared. And not just with people my age but also with people of other generations, including kids. In fact, it’s my responsibility as an adult to be a guide to the faith to those younger than me.

That feels awkward to those of us steeped in the American worldview of individualism. We farm out most of the shaping of our kids’ lives to outside experts like professional educators in schools. We would even rather get our early childcare help from experts in books rather than from people we know (and, for whatever reasons, don’t trust).

On Good Friday the shared journey of faith was “hammered” home to me. I was the first to place a nail in the cross as a means of meditation on the meaning of the Crucifixion. The kids were fascinated and crowded around to watch. Of course they wanted to use the hammer, too. I even held a nail so my 5 year old could hammer in a nail (my fingers remained miraculously intact). And all of the adults had to endure the scrutiny of 16 eyes (one of the kids was asleep) watching from up close their act of meditation.

The Maundy Thursday service was also invaded by kids’ curiosity and giggles as we washed each others’ feet and partook of the elements of the Lord’s Table. There wasn’t the usual quiet solemnity and deep introspection we normally associate with religious ritual (and, to be honest, I designed the services with the expectation that kids would be present and not exactly solemn and introspective).

But in those two services we were doing what Christian adults should do: giving our kids experiences that will shape their understanding of who they are as members of the Christian church community. I don’t expect my 5 year old to understand the depths of meaning inherent in Christ’s act of service that he provided as an illustration of humility and love for his disciples. But my 5 year old now has a tangible memory of foot washing that he can use as a focus for future reflection.

In the vows for baptism that we celebrated on Palm Sunday, parents promise to help their children become true disciples of Christ. As a parent, I want to continue to provide experiences such as foot washing and hammering nails into a cross as a foundation for my prayers that my kids (and all of the kids of Grace Community) will become true followers of Jesus. In the eyes of the world this may seem like an inconvenience and maybe even a bit foolish. But in the eyes of God, this is my joy and duty.

a good Lent?

Did you have a good Lent?

My fast this year was from listening to the stereo in the car. It wasn’t a big deal when my family was in the car: my kids can chatter incessantly with or without the stereo. But in my other travels it did offer a chance to cultivate an attitude of listening to God.

But during Holy Week I decided to change my fast to listening only to excerpts from Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion” and “St. John Passion”. That listening experience has led me to a conclusion: I’ve been robbed.

I grew up in a Christian tradition that didn’t observe Lent and that saw Good Friday as mostly a speed bump before Easter. The desire was to focus on the joy and triumph of Easter.

In contrast, Bach’s two musical reflections on Christ’s Passion (his suffering and death) don't end with glorious Resurrection scenes. They are both comprised of songs of lament, grief, and reflection, ending with exhausted lullabies to Christ’s body in the tomb. And they have helped me glimpse the experience of a deeper appreciation of the joy and victory of Easter through the lens of sorrow and suffering. It’s only a glimpse because I have so little personal tradition to draw on. It makes me feel like a woefully inadequate guide to helping Grace Community understand Easter more fully, kind of like a little kid trying to explain the complexities of the adult world.

Some of this ignoring of the depths of the pain of mortality comes from a Protestant shying away from things that seem too Rome-ish, i.e., staying away from “graven images” (the second Commandment) and wanting to say that our empty crosses are better than the crucifixes that still have the suffering Christ stuck on them. And then there's the American preoccupation with avoiding anything having to do with death (except, for some odd reason, slasher movies and the various iterations of CSI).

The fact that I grew up in a Chinese American church community may also have something to do with this. When European missionaries first went to China they found that their devotional paintings of Christ’s suffering didn’t evoke the expected sense of sympathy. Instead the Chinese thought that a suffering person was just getting what s/he deserved. The missionaries had to change to images like the holy family, ideas that resonated more with the Chinese worldview.

Whatever the causes, I’m realizing that I can’t really celebrate Easter until I have a deeper appreciation for Christ’s emptying to take on my human-ness, including my experiences of suffering and death. These are terrible and repulsive things that I’d rather not be reminded of. But that’s the purpose of Lent. I’ll try again next year to have a good Lent.

catholic

"I believe in the holy catholic Church."

In our contemporary Evangelical Covenant version of the Apostles' Creed we've changed the wording to "the holy Christian Church" in order to avoid sounding like we're pledging allegiance to the Pope. But the change has always bothered me.

I like the idea of the Church as being catholic in the original sense: universal, for everyone. God's Church is not an elitist group. The twelve that Jesus chose included tradesmen (fishermen) and professionals (the well-heeled Judas Iscariot), a religious fundamentalist (a Zealot) and someone who had turned his back on religion (a tax collector), commoners and those with friends in high places (John, with family connections to the high priest). Jesus, a Jew, even reached out to the hated Samaritans and other Gentiles.

"Catholic" today is a kind of mark of separation: Catholics v. Orthodox v. Protestants. Even the name Christian can be seen as a call to division: Christians v. Jews v. Muslims, etc. But Jesus came to break down walls of separation. Christianity isn't just for those with enough willpower to live a pious life, or for those smart enough to articulate the theistic arguments or build an irrefutable case for why an omnipotent God allows evil and suffering in the world. I'm a follower of Jesus because he offers to me the grace I need. Through him I have new life, something I can't earn, something which must be given to me as a gift because I'm completely unable to attain it on my own.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God (Ephesians 2:8)

kids in worship

This week is Holy Week, celebrating the most significant events of our salvation history: Jesus washing the disciples' feet and giving us the command to "love one another", Jesus' institution of the Lord's Table, Jesus' crucifixion, and Jesus' resurrection.

How do you celebrate these events with little kids?

I was curious about billboards for "Catholic Radio 1260" so I tuned in for a few minutes. The radio host (I have no idea who she was) was answering someone who called to ask how she could get anything out of worship when she was so distracted by her kids. Since most Roman Catholic churches expect that the entire family is together during the worship service, I could understand why this mother of young kids (they were in the 2-7 year old range, if I remember) was seeking some advice.

The host started by saying that it was pleasing to God that the mom (and dad) were bringing their kids to worship and getting them started on the right track. The host even said that if there were any times when the mom felt like she was getting anything out of the worship it was "triple grace" for the mom.

Then the host gave some very practical tips: pray, practice, and prepare. Pray for your kids, that they will sit still and maybe receive something from the time in worship. Practice what happens in the worship service ahead of time with the kids. Young kids love to role play and it will make them more alert to what's happening during the worship. And prepare: bring coloring sheets and small toys in case they're needed.

We Protestants can learn a lot from the Catholics. At least, from Catholic radio.

pause button

Kids get into these mental routines. Whenever my 5 year old is watching something on TV and we turn off the TV for something we deem necessary (like eating dinner) he asks, "Did you pause it?" whether or not we're watching a DVD or other type of recording.

"Did you pause it?" It's a good question to ask about my life. Have I paused it, stopped my busy-ness and given myself time to rest and reflect, to disengage from the crazy pace of Silicon Valley life that threatens to eat me up whole, to guard my soul from all the things that want to invade and take control of my life? Have I paused to give the Holy Spirit space in my schedule to work in me?

My Treo gives lots of things priority time in my schedule. For an hour I set aside time for this person or that activity. Maybe it's time to schedule in prayer or Bible reading or 10 minutes for silence, to give God some priority time. Maybe it's time to ask about my own life: have I paused it?

"In quietness and trust is your strength." Isaiah 30:15

connecting the body

Has your leg ever fallen asleep? Worse, has your leg ever fallen asleep and you didn't realize it, so that when you tried to stand up you almost fell over? The rest of your body had to compensate and your walking was impaired for a while until you were able to feel your leg again and could move normally. And you couldn't quite cover up by saying, "I meant to do that."

It seems to me that the various parts of Grace Community aren't always communicating well with each other. The individual part may be healthy, but the fact that there's a lack of communication affects the whole body's ability to function. Or the individual part may be hurting, but other parts don't know it. Either way, the body can't function as it should and in general, things just don't feel right.

Our prayer ministry is making an effort to get the various parts of Grace Community communicating with each other (and God) through the Prayer Circle. It's a way to let other ministry teams know how you're doing and in return to take an interest in another ministry team's concerns and bring them to God. It's a step toward being connected and being the Body of Christ as we should be.

A severed limb is both grotesque and useless (except to the director of a slasher movie). But a body with all the parts working in concert feels right and can accomplish a lot.

entertainment or worship?

Are we having fun yet?

That's the title of an article about the changing values of the workplace in the latest Utne Reader (March-April '08). It reminded me of the changing values in our places of worship.

I love visiting cathedrals partly because they are rich with visual depictions of the central stories and truths of our faith (it starts in the architecture and includes the stained glass and statuary, but don't get me started).

But today's houses of worship (at least the American Christian evangelical ones) look more like theaters. The dominant value isn't worship, re-telling and re-living the Gospel, but entertainment. As a public speaker on Sunday mornings I'm always wondering if I'm funny enough, or interesting enough, or poignant enough. And I know the same pressure is on the worship band and everyone else who leads in worship.

Entertainment has become the dominant value of American culture. One could trace it all back to Sesame Street: Big Bird and Elmo have made it a requirement for all education to be fun. And now worship has to measure up. We justify it by making sure it's Christian entertainment, but it's entertainment nonetheless. (We shouldn't even say we "go to church" because we ARE the Church, but that's a whole 'nother line of thought.)

Maybe I'm being overly cynical. As embodied spirits we have to pay attention to how time and space and our senses affect all of our activities. But how many people who say, "I can worship God anywhere, even on a golf course" actually worship on a golf course? The problem is, how many of us are really worshiping in our worship services?

There are really only two primary reasons for worshiping together: to publicly say who God is and to publicly form who we are. We are God's people and by publicly declaring who God is and re-telling the story of our redemption we are being shaped by the Spirit. Everything on a Sunday morning should be a vehicle for worship: songs, readings, prayers, sermons, communion, even the time of greeting each other ("passing the peace").

"True worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks." John 4:23