Death and life

Yesterday I went to the closing service for one of my former congregations, Our Saviour Lutheran Church in Cresskill, NJ.  I had the privilege of being their pastor for just over two years, while they were living and worshipping with St. Luke's Episcopal Church, where I was priest-in-charge.  They had allied with St. Luke's because they couldn't keep their buildings and pay their bills.  Somehow we all hoped it would work out, but in the end there were too few people for the huge amount of work facing them.  When I left six months ago I knew they needed to close and move on, but I couldn't make that decision for them.  They have had an agonizing six months, and they closed really well.  The final service was back at their original church, a church I had never served in.  It was wonderful to see them come to closure with grace.  They were able to give several generous legacy gifts, and I hear that the day they made those decisions was a day of joy.  They knew that they were making sure their assets would serve the Gospel - not in the same place, but in many places.

As I sat with them, I thought about how much I learned during my time with them.  I learned, first, about the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America.  I learned by reading, but more by many conversations with parishioners, Bible study groups with clergy, and simply by their life together.  I am so grateful I got stretched in a way unique for priests in our isolated denominations.  I was proud to be the pastor of this wild and crazy blend.

I learned about parish life.  St. Luke's was my first parish after ordination.  I got not only the usual dynamics and issues in a parish, but the unique challenge of blending two cultures on the ground.  I did not do the blending - they were doing that - but I got to be part of the mix.

And I learned about standing at the empty tomb.  I learned to stand at the door and not judge whether I would see death or life.  I learned not to be afraid of parish death, to trust in the Holy Spirit.  I learned that sometimes life looks like death.  I learned to hold my own plans and hopes lightly, to accept life cycles.

Yesterday as I saw people I haven't seen for six months, I realized how much I love these people.  I don't know why that should surprise me, but it did.  I'm so happy in this life we're building here, but it was wonderful to see everyone.  I'm not going to name you - if I leave someone out, you'll be hurt.  But you know, because I got to see you yesterday.  I saw you dying and rising, with tears and with joy.

Thank you, all of you.  Thank you for putting up with a new priest, a new pastor.  Thank you for all your hard work, your prayers, your good will.  You continue in my prayers and thanksgivings every day.  God bless you all!

Companions of the Companions - more wow.

On Sunday, we had our first "Companions of the Companions" dreamtime meeting.  We are looking for ways for women and men to affiliate with us, ways that aren't just the same old menu of associates and oblates, but still offer real relationship and commitment.  Our friends told us that "associate" is a business term, not a spiritual one, so we are building both a structure and a language for community.

Ten women joined us for dreaming.  We shared our passions and hopes for what a relationship would bring.  In the end, six women signed up to be a "dream team" to ask what is needed, and to design a "menu" that is flexible but meaningful.  We committed to having a menu by September 22, when we will gather again and invite people to enter more deeply into community.

It was a great meeting!

What made it great was not how many people showed up, or who in particular showed up.  Many people who planned to attend couldn't make it, and others we didn't anticipate did.  It was not great because of "what we got done," for no product was produced beyond a commitment to next steps.

The meeting was great because people came with their passions and concerns, and they shared them with one another, and they were heard, and they translated them into concrete next steps.  It was great because community was formed and deepened, purpose was clarified, and people left fired up.

Elizabeth and I put a lot of time into planning our regular gatherings, and into planning meetings like these.  We have wonderful, talented friends who coach us.  We want to honor those who sacrifice their time to come to such an event, so work to make it meaningful and on time.  So for me, personally, one of the highlights was when one woman who has been to a number of our events told me how much she sees and appreciates what we do.  She said she could relax, knowing that everything will happen, all will be heard, we won't be rushed, but we will be focused and on schedule.  And she loved seeing us work together.

This is the best part for me.  I love working with Elizabeth.  I love having a partner in ministry who is gifted, and who keeps working to improve and refine her gifts.  I love going into a meeting knowing that she has my back, and I have hers.  That's what I want for all of us.

Companions don't just like one another.  Companions work with, challenge, and inspire one another.  I give thanks for a companion like that, and for all the new companions coming into my life who inspire and challenge me.

Put September 22 on your calendar.  Think about what affiliation you desire, or need.  Let us know.  Write!
companionsma@gmail.com.

See you on the road!

More about our children, and the power of a gathering of women

Yesterday we had our biweekly gathering of women at St. Mary's House.  We decided to focus on the question posed by Lily, the 8-year-old girl I wrote about.  We prayed, we shared about our own upbringing and current images for God.  We heard stories of reassurance and strength, but also stories of powerlessness and distance.
Then we wrote or drew for a while, then shared again.  We decided to write and illustrate what we said, and send it to Lily so she knows someone is listening.
Here's what we wrote:

God is surprise and wonder
God is breath
God is light
God is a mother and a father
God is in the eyes of my dog
God is Casper the friendly ghost
God is in my middle and I am in God's middle
God is all of creation
God is a circle of women
God is true love
God is who you have an experience of, not an idea
God is presence
God is a mother hen with her chicks
God is in a loyal friend
God is strength
God is sheltering wings
God is joyful energy
God is a dancing woman with so much joy the energy sparks from her feet!

And we want to know: Who does Lily think God is?  What does she, do you, think God is?

Now, I asked all of you last week what you thought.  Only a few people wrote back - thank you!  You wrote about the need for a mothering God as well as a father God, or for images that go beyond the parental.  You wrote about your own struggles and progress in your churches.

Others were silent.  I wonder: is this just really hard?  Of course.  If it were easy, it would be done.

Our friend Paul gave us a great segue:

"Thank you for asking that question. You're invited to our first weekend workshop at CMA:

"Imaging the Divine: Gender, Theology and Alienation"

or...

"Re-imagining God: What Do Love, Compassion, Truth and Wisdom 'Look' Like?"

or...

"Mother God: He Couldn't Have Done It All By Himself!"

Or...

 "G*d: The Wisdom of Not Naming"

or

"Yahweh: I Am Who Am, Not Who You Say I Am"

I say segue, because October 8-11 we will offer a three-day retreat on the Divine Feminine and images of God.  So if these titles appeal to you, stay tuned!  

Thanks to you who wrote, and you who came, and you who prayed.  Please continue to pray for all the children, that they may find a God who loves them and empowers them to love in turn.  

What do you tell your children?

If you get our newsletter, you've seen that a friend brought us a real problem.  A little girl in her congregation wants to know why God is a "He," and what it means for her.  I'm struggling to find words to answer.  I know what I don't think or feel - God is not a "He," God is beyond gender - but that's hard for an 8-year-old to take in, I think.  And what does it mean for us that God is beyond gender, if we are made in God's image?

I'm starting to read Grace Jantzen's Becoming Divine, because a friend recommended it and it looks interesting.  Jantzen was a philosopher of religion who examined the ways that religion, and the study of religion, were gendered in Western culture.  She links the masculinization of religion to the focus on death, rather than natality or birth, but that is not the most radical aspect of her work.  She argues that the "fundamental task of the philosophy of religion" is not formulating correct statements about God, but is "becoming divine" - discovering and activating all our potential, all that we are given, "to refuse to allow parts of ourselves to shrivel and die that have the potential for growth and fulfillment."

I don't know yet where this will take me, but I know it's important.  I can critique existing paradigms and methods, but God isn't in the critique.  The future isn't in the critique.  The future, the God who does something new, is in our creative imaginations.  God is in our desire to become divine, to know God not as Other but as our Ground and Source.

How do I say that to an 8-year-old?  I don't know.  It takes a village.  If you know of resources, or can imagine, or have a story to tell, please let me know!  Write me at companionsma@gmail.com.  And pray for all the children of the world, that they may be given a chance to know themselves beloved children of God.

Taking back my broad brush

Dear everyone,

Yesterday I wrote about how "no one" in the U.S. wants to give to people without tax deductions anymore.  This morning Elizabeth reminded me that in fact several people have done exactly that.  In fact, this past week we received two generous anonymous donations from people, donations that will help us to move toward non-profit status.  Others have given several hundred dollars over the last few months.

My deepest apologies to all of you who have given with no thought of deductions.  I was making a point, thinking of the many conversations I have had with people who were unwilling to donate yet, but in my haste I used a broad brush that ignored the generosity we have already benefited from.

So now you know - I can get just a bit one-sided.  Another joy of community - being caught, being balanced, being accountable.  Thank you, Elizabeth!

Love to you all,
Shane

Wow.

Where do I start?

It's 6 a.m.  I've been up for over two hours, awakened by my overflowing brain and heart.

Yesterday we had our first meeting of the board of directors on our way to incorporating.  For those outside the U.S., let me explain: when taxpayers here donate to non-profit corporations, they can deduct the money from their taxes.  This has become so normal that no one wants to give unless they can take it off their taxes.  So friends who are willing to give to us have been waiting for us to get this done.  The whole process takes over a year, but we started down the road yesterday.

But that's not the gift our board is giving.  We have a legal responsibility, but the real gift is their vision and commitment and community together.  We asked seven gifted people, and all said yes.  Yesterday we met for the first time, and started to share our passions and dreams.  We have an amazing future, being created right now.

This week brought so many other gifts.  We had two large (for us, huge) financial gifts.  One is dependent on the legal stuff, but it's coming.  And beyond the money is what it says, about people's hopes and dreams and plans for the world.  We had a great gathering of women in our living room.

Now, this week, our first "chapter" - the official gathering of the community, our plans and reflections of where we are and where we plan to go.  Then, on June 16, the first meeting for those who want to affiliate - whether as residential companions, or as oblates, or as prayer companions, or - we will see what you want and need!

Thank you, God, for this amazing life.  Thank you for friends, for coaches, for community.  Thank you for quiet rainy mornings.  Thank you for you.