Today Bob Edgar of Common Cause came to speak to our Ministry in Non-Parish Settings class. He was a great speaker with many quotes and words of wisdom to share. I'd like to pass along this one.
This is a poem called "Outwitted" by Edwin Markham, from The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems (1913):
He drew a circle that shut me out — Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But Love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle that took him in.
Billy Joel wrote his song because he originally wanted to be a history teacher.
I wrote this parody song because I suspect we've already covered more people and events in the 500 years of Church History II than we did in all 1500 years of Church History I.
This one goes out to theo students and churchgoers everywhere.
Best appreciated along with the video of the original "We Didn't Start the Fire" (I chose the one with the lyrics in case you'd like to sing along with Joel's version, too):
John Wycliffe, Jan Hus, Calvin, and Erasmus Ulrich Zwingli, Luther's Theses, 1517 Johann Tetzel, humanism, Institutes of the Religion Augsburg, Zurich, Marburg, Munster, Wittenberg's the scene
Menno Simons' Mennonites, T'resa's Discalced Carmelites William Farel, Dentiere, England's Book of Common Prayer Church of England splits off, Catholic Pope is ticked off Edward's king at nine years old (he was Henry's male heir)
(Chorus)
Thomas Muntzer, Peasants' War, Thomas Cranmer, Thomas More Anabaptists, Conrad Groebel, St. John of the Cross Thomas Coke, George Blaurock, Argula von Grumbach Richard Hooker, John Mott, France gets Huguenots
Plague spread by street rats, Communion causes Christian spats Battles about liturgy: Queen Liz plays the referee King James Bible, John Knox, Margaret Fell weds George Fox Quakers pray - in PA; at the meetings no one talks
(Chorus)
Madison, Jefferson, and the Presbyterians Puritan Commonwealth, Zinzendorf in ill health Philip Spener, Pietism, Wesley brothers, Methodism Church Revivals raising zeal; Edwards' words are working well
Independents, Baptists, Brown-Blackwell, Berry-Smith Melchior Hoffman, J. Gresham Machen Lott Carey, John Murray, Circuit Riders, Asbury Whitefield's people praise him, even Franklin pays him
(Chorus)
Helen Kim, Reverdy Ransom, girls think Billy Sunday's handsome Moody, Finney, journal of Jarena Lee Cane Ridge and Azusa Street, Baptist congregations meet Allen founds the AME, Varick adds to that a Z
Winthrop, Rauschenbusch, Willard gives girls' rights a push Each school day, kids must pray; what else do I have to say?
(Chorus)
Social gospel, Lottie Moon (this song will be over soon) Cartwright starts right; known to preach and fight Shailer, Taylor, Prosser, Liele (progress sure can take a while) Roger Williams, Modernists, Oberlin Perfectionists
Fundamentals, worship trends, changes at the Vatican Dead Sea Scrolls, Rahner, Barth, World Council, Kierkegaard Missionaries on new shores, schisms beckon at the door, Now for all new holy wars, I can't take it anymore
In celebration of AmenAbility's 100th post, behold! A fun (illustrated) fact:
The phrase "abracadabra" is derived from the Aramaic abra (אברה) and cadabra (כדברא), meaning, "I would create as I spoke."
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light.
At an afterschool program in a rough Yonkers neighborhood, the children typically spent their free time outdoors in the parking lot on fair-weathered afternoons.
One day, two students picked leaves and grass and the odd flower from an incongruous bit of green encroaching on the disrupted pavement around a rotted out stump. One young girl took my arm and pointed to the stone wall topped with iron bars and railings, which enclosed their unequipped playground.
"Do you know why that's there?" she said; "Somebody was shot. They died." Then, without further explanation, she took some more grass back to her makeshift garden on the greenless end of the parking lot.
The children were not oblivious to the world beyond the protective fence, nor were they unaware of what was lacking in the small lot where they played.
Peace activist Father John Dear has been arrested 75 times in acts of civil disobedience, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu has nominated him for the Nobel Peace Prize.
Ten Rules of Peace according to Fr. John Dear, based upon the work of Henri Nouwen
1. Peace-making starts with prayer. Let Jesus disarm your heart.
2. Peace-making requires resistance to war and violence.
3. Peace-making creates community.
4. Peace-making requires serving the poor and marginalized.
5. Peace-making means accepting weakness.
6. Peace-making requires nonviolence.
7. Peace-making demands social justice.
8. Peace-making makes connections.
9. Peace-making leads to gratitude.
10. Peace-makers follow a nonviolent peace-making Jesus. Jesus was not passive.
Fr. John Dear is an excellent speaker and author who spoke at Drew last semester. Check out his website at FatherJohnDear.org and his autobiography entitled A Persistent Peace, among his other works.
My alma mater, Sarah Lawrence College, has unique course registration methods which sometimes work in a student's favor, but usually only if the student has recently sacrificed a rack of veggie burgers on the grill behind Westlands. (Now you know the real reason for all those orientation BBQ picnics.)
Alas, in my sophomore year I was bumped from the apparently popular course called Psychoneuroimmunology, which had taken me a substantial chunk of the summer to learn how to pronounce... so it's probably for the best that I didn't get to take it. Still, I suspect that I would have (blissfully and ignorantly) enjoyed it, because I'd bought some of the textbooks in advance and started reading early. This, in light of my procrastinating nature, was downright miraculous.
Being bumped sort of popped the miracle bubble.
Reluctantly, I returned my orphaned books and began the well-loathed ritual of Alternate Registration. I revisited the course listings, jotting down feasible second choices. Possibly the most fear-inducing part of this process is that registration takes place the week before classes begin, and by the time Alternate Registration rolls around, you have both fewer options and less time until term. Not uber conducive, I feared, to good decision-making.
I eventually narrowed it down to two courses, including a philosophy course called "Language and Religious Experience." The title hummed back at me from the page, like a fiendish zombie or a frustrated teenager (obviously interchangeable): Take meeeeeeeeee.
It drooled. Or I drooled. I'm not really sure. Anyway, it suddenly sounded especially interesting, and the very fact that both of my remaining options were each somehow theological in nature (and I'd not yet studied anything of the like) sort of whacked me upside the head with insight.
Okay, God, I get it.
Ultimately I decided that this two-and-a-half-hour, 8:30 AM class would be well worth it.
Mind-blowing academia aside, it certainly left me with a few quotable gems, like this one from a discussion on humans' "sense of time," and the student was entirely serious and unaware of what he was saying (TO OUR PROFESSOR) until it was out:
"Sometimes time seems to go by very quickly and other times it moves very slowly. Like this class is two and half hours long, but it feels like forever."
Beat. Laughter. Yeah, it was a good time.
But most significantly, I gained vivid understandings of ideas that had absolutely baffled me, particularly the doctrine of the trinity and the duality of Jesus' humanity and divinity. By the end of the course, I still couldn't articulate it for beans. Yet there was a distinct time of growth in my spirituality, mostly toward reconciling intellect and mystery of faith.
The irony is that these are exactly the sort of topics (and then some) with which I am struggling now in my theology program.
Sometimes we have to take multiple detours.
And all the while, there is a pervasive sense that any such pain truly is an aspect of growth, that this is just one step in a complex process. Like wanting to loathe the detour of Alternate Registration, yet knowing in my core that I'm headed to where I must be.
When Sincere Things That Christians Do and Say Are Potentially Problematic
Here are some situations that I have been mulling over in the context of what I call "awkward Christianity." I present them in this way not to offend, alarm, or condemn, but simply in the spirit of considering that sometimes sincere kindness gets lost in translation. Sometimes we don't realize the magnitude or implications of what we say, or see it entirely differently. It behooves us to be sensitive to that in both speaking and listening.
Awkwardness #1: Blessings
"God has blessed me with good health, a spouse, children, a nice home," etc.
Likely Intended Meaning(s): I feel blessed, grateful, happy, content. I like the circumstances, people, things, etc. of and in my life or at this particular time. I give credit to God that I have this.
Considerations: My co-conversationalist may be in a similar circumstance, or may not. I should not presume to know. Their circumstances may have changed (such as having an illness they have not disclosed to me). They may believe that God has blessed them in some way; they may be in the midst of confusion, uncertainty, or upset with God. My co-conversationalist may or may not believe in giving gratitude to God even for difficulties and for not having what they would like. They may not believe in God or may not know quite what they believe about God and "blessings."
Where I'd Be Wrong and Why It's Worth the Risk: If you sincerely believe (1) that God blesses us with pleasant, happy things but not challenging, unpleasant things, (2) that we should always thank God by name and in public/in conversation with other people, or (3) that the absence of pleasant, happy things in someone's life is an indication of the absence of God's blessing, then this Awkward-Avoidance may not sit well with you. But I disagree at least in part with all three of the aforementioned, and that's why I consider this a scenario of potential Awkward Christianity worth addressing.
How to Avoid the Awkward: I don't mean to suggest not to share joy or gratitude with others or to neglect to thank God, but simply to be sensitive to the fact that this statement may reflect my joy and gratitude but may inspire other feelings or questions for my companion. Consider, too, that perhaps we can exhibit joy and gratitude in other ways: that this is one of the cases in which the maxim "actions speak louder than words" may ring true. Share your joy, perhaps not by saying "God has given me a reason to have joy," but by simply exuding the joy it has brought you and striving to bring such joy to another. Pray in your inner room - let God know of your gratitude. And if you exhibit the joy of God in good times and in bad whether or not you say a word about the circumstance, you reveal far more about God's blessings than words could convey.
"Jesus did not call women because they volunteered." - Dr. Heather Elkins (Drew University Chapel Service, March 3, 2011)
In celebration of Women's History Month, our chapel service yesterday consisted of various ways to honor the women of biblical, historical and contemporary Christianity. Besides Dr. Elkins' benediction (as partially quoted above), perhaps my favorite part of the service was the litany, which I wish to share.
This litany comes from the book Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals (Claiborne, et. al., Zondervan 2010). Plain text denotes the speaker/leader while text in bold is spoken by the entire congregation.
We walk in the company of the women who have gone before, mothers of the faith both named and unnamed, testifying with ferocity and faith to the Spirit of wisdom and healing. They are the judges, the prophets, the martyrs, the warriors, poets, lovers, and saints who are near to us in the shadow of awareness, in the crevices of memory, in the landscape of our dreams. We walk in the company of Deborah, who judged the Israelites with authority and strength. We walk in the company of Esther, who used her position as queen to ensure the welfare of her people. We walk in the company of you whose names have been lost and silenced, who kept and cradled the wisdom of the ages. We walk in the company of the woman with the flow of blood, who audaciously sought her healing and release. We walk in the company of Mary Magdalene, who wept at the empty tomb until the risen Christ appeared. We walk in the company of Phoebe, who led an early church in the empire of Rome. We walk in the company of Perpetua of Carthage, whose witness in the third century led to her martyrdom. We walk in the company of St. Christina the Astonishing, who resisted death with persistence and wonder. We walk in the company of Julian of Norwich, who wed imagination and theology, proclaiming, "All shall be well." We walk in the company of Sojourner Truth, who stood against oppression, righteously declaring in 1852, "Ain't I a woman!" We walk in the company of the Argentine mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, who turned their grief to strength, standing together to remember "the disappeared" children of war with holy indignation. We walk in the company of Alice Walker, who named the lavender hue of womanish strength. We walk in the company of you mothers of the faith, who teach us to resist evil with boldness, to lead with wisdom, and to heal. Amen.