Eating Sausage with Gentiles

I never knew this, but apparently some of the early Anabaptists were universalists.  Though this might shock the pants off of some modern-day Mennonites, I honestly feel a little relieved.

I'm in the middle of writing the meditation for this week's church service, and after a very intense conference this past weekend on interfaith dialogue, I have really struggled to piece together what I believe and how I sense the Spirit, with what my perceptions (rightly or wrongly) the congregation here is willing to hear.  I don't want to offend, but I also don't want to lie... So there is and was a tension of wondering if what I believe to be "true" is acceptable within the Church.

Back at the conference, I certainly felt supported in my universalist thoughts, because it is hard to, after hearing someone's faith journey (when they are not Christians), think that shalom is not extended to all people.  But then, I started reading the lectionary passages for the week, and could sense the conflict building within me...if Jesus is significant in comparison to other faiths, shouldn't belief in him trump all?  Or, can we believe that Jesus, yes, is quite significant, offers a distinct message...but that others who do not follow his path can also fall within Grace?  I tend to think the latter, but I would guess that the better part of the Christian church would disagree (because thinking of someone you dislike of having to deal with "fire and brimstone" can be soothing....)

One of the passages this week is the story of Peter in Acts, where he has a vision in which a blanket is lowered with all the non-kosher animals on it, and after The Voice tells him to kill and eat them, Peter's response is something like, "Dude, you know I don't touch that stuff.  I am a law-abiding citizen."  But The Voice tells him to do it a second time.  Then a third.  Once the light has come on for Peter, he then gets to explain to his Jew friends why he then ended up eating sausages with Cornelius, a Gentile (gasp!).  "God loves us all the same, y'all," Peter says.  Word.

And, so my meditation centers back on Shalom, which is for all people.  I've read that every preacher (or teacher or rabbi or person or whatever...) has one message and that they end up preaching the same sermon (though, hopefully from the audience's perspective, with different examples.)  I think I'm ending up with Shalom Is For All Who Desire It...which I kinda like, though may be quite controversial for others (which boggles my mind.)

Hans Denck, one of those crazy hippie early Anabaptists, wrote that God "speaks clearly in everyone, in the deaf, dumb, and blind, even in unreasoning beasts, even in leaves and grass, stone and wood, heaven and earth, and all that is in them, that they may hear and do His will."  Change "His" to "the Divine's" and you might be surprised how many faiths would resonate with it...Hindu, Buddhist, Islam, Paganism, etc.  Something to think about.

Can you name them?

Mindfulness in the City

It's been one of those weeks.  Started out with a stomach virus that left me weak and bedridden for days (mostly better now) on top of the busyness that comes with hosting a visitor (though highly enjoyed it was!)  We were talking with our visitor, Julian, about mega-rich people at some point, and he brought up someone who, long-story-short, he came into contact with (because of their mega-richness) at (one of) their home(s) which was called something to the tune of Mindfulness Institute.  Julian talked about one of the exercises he was meant to do as a part of a course at this place.  Sent out across the estate to "explore," the participants were instructed to be mindful of the grass they walked on, to deliberate on the sounds and smells, etc.

These sorts of exercises are great, and I do appreciate them.  I was left pondering, though, how mindfulness works for me in this city setting, where mindlessness seems rampant.  It helped, then, that I promptly became sick and spent hours on the futon, too sick to do much more than think.

1.  Mindfulness is knowing which blocks in the sidewalk are loose, and either anticipating the uneven footstep or stepping around the block.

2.  Mindfulness is taking a second to be still in prayer/thought when hearing an ambulance siren as it speeds down your street to the hospital, knowing that that sound means someone's life is in the midst of being profoundly changed.  Even in a city where those sirens seem constant...

3.  Mindfulness is hearing an adolescent girl pass by on the sidewalk outside the house, thinking at first she is whining to her parent(s), but then waiting to hear that she is actually saying, "Pleeease, sunlight, pleeease!"  Amen, sister.

4.  Mindfulness is knowing when to start holding your breath as you pass the fish store to avoid gagging as you walk by. 

I believe we must attempt to be mindful regardless of where we are -- in the middle of a sprawling, pristine estate or in the heart of a bustling neighborhood, rife with injustice.  It brings us closer to knowing who we are, and why we are, as individuals and as a people.

Day trip to Brighton...wind-whipped and misty.

Technology

We are preparing for our first visitor to arrive today!  What a treat!

I'm continually amazed at how life at this point in time is so different than even 20 years ago, in terms of technology and ability to travel.  No more do "missionaries" (which we do not call ourselves) expect to have to say final goodbyes when moving abroad.  No more do (most) letters take a month to cross an ocean and arrive at someone's door.  No more do families hunker around the kitchen phone for the once-a-month/year phone call where the delay in conversation, as the sound travels between one country to the other, means you end up spending more money on silence than you did on talk.  Communication has become cheap with Skype/Gchat and cell phone plans with international options.  A visit like the one we're about to have was scheduled a couple weeks ago (granted, he is single so he can up and leave), not months or even years ago as yesteryear might have experienced.

I'm sure I'm dramatizing this much more than what 20 years ago actually looked like...but, truly, this instant worldwide communication is dramatic.  It sometimes seems unnatural or uncanny. 

Part of that discomfort is why I don't widely use Facebook.  The idea that I have to pretend to be "friends" with someone I haven't seen in years or talked to in years just seems preposterous.  I think of it more as Gossipbook and I'msoawesomebook and Lookatwhatmykiddrew/said/whateverbook.

Do I sound mean?  It's because I am.

Anyway, yeah, technology.  Perhaps my religious heritage is causing me to harken to the ways that these changes in communication are not necessarily for the betterment of society...not to say that I don't enjoy keeping in close touch with family and friends who are far away, but rather understanding how significant it is, in fact, to keeping a firm grasp on being present here and now.  We are keeping up with technology, perhaps, but I don't believe that we, as human beings, are keeping up with our basic needs for tangible community, discerning thought (who needs to think about what to say when you can post it instantly on twitter?), and meaningful engagement with nature.

With that, I have a few emails to catch up on...(i.e. I am not perfect.)

Random.

I've been pondering all week what to write about.  Not sure if it was a result of the grey weather we had for most of the week, but my thinking also felt cloudy and sluggish.  I don't feel like I've had any profound thoughts or probing issues I've been mulling over.  Or, maybe, after the excitement of Holy Week, with multiple church services and the installation of a yarn bomb, this week felt both like a let-down and a sigh of relief.  A "boring" week, but a week of recovery no less.

Lots of Plane trees in the park.

This morning, I walked down to Victoria Park.  It was my first time there, and I really just skirted along the outside, as it was not my final destination (gasp! sacrilege!)  The green space coupled with the walk got me to thinking about how, very early in the process of us considering service in London, I was watching (somewhat vigorously) the old show, All Creatures Great and Small.  (I grew up reading all the James Herriot books, so knew the quaint "charm" I was getting into by investing significant amounts of time in the show.)  I really have no idea where I'm going with this...except, it's a great show and you should watch it in the winter.  It will also help prepare you for life in rural England.

After Victoria Park, I got severely lost and walked a couple miles out of the way.  I had a map (yes, one made out of paper, not a screen!), but unfortunately, I was not on the map.  At least, I don't think I was -- there were several times I didn't see street signs, so I really have no idea where I was.  But, sometimes taking the long way round means you see some new things.

I was trying to make it to Broadway Market, where I learned that whoopie pies sell (apparently) for £3/$4.50 each.  (I say apparently because there were a lot there, and I didn't see anyone buy any.)

I also didn't buy one, mainly because according to the Great British Class Calculator, I can't afford them.  I rank 6th lowest out of 7, in the sector known as "Emergent Service Worker."  Sounds about right.  I expect to continue to emerge.  For a long time.

Do you see what I mean when I say my thinking is cloudy?  You're welcome.

You Are Beautiful

Easter Sunday.  A remnant celebration of a subversive act in which systems were overthrown and a new uniqueness deliberately began.

In our own way, here in Clapton, we have overthrown complacency, dull grey skies, and privilege.  (We'd like to think so, anyway.)  We submit the evidence of our hours of loved-up labour, a bit of community organising, and the commitment to getting up very early to install under the cover of darkness some art-for-all.

 

We are the Peaceable Yarn Army.

(Unfortunately, at our arrival back home after church, we discovered one tree had already been rendered naked.  We are assuming it went to a home where it was needed.  Stay warm, friend, whoever you are!)

Therese. Some call her a saint. I think she looks fairly normal.

Therese of Lisieux.  Called a saint by the Catholics (and perhaps some others).  Known as the "Little Flower."  And I'm not sure how I feel about her.

Shortly after arriving here and being granted a library card, I checked out a biography about Little Miss Therese.  (Not trying to be sacreligious here -- just thought it sounded appropriate.)  Having some background on her from previous study and conversation, I knew the gist of her "mantra", if you will, which was, primarily, to be little or unknown.

So, I won't delve in too much to what I perceived as a sort of spiritual masochism (because, let's face it -- she lived during the height of the Victorian era...), but rather focus on perhaps the one bit of her life that, if taken with a grain of salt, might be useful (to me.)

Let's start with a simple situation.

As per their definition, cities are crowded places.  This means that there are a lot of people having to co-exist in a relatively small area.  For example, walking down the street, one typically attempts to move out of the way when another person is approaching from the opposite direction.  (In the States, that means you veer toward the right, typically.  Here, I'm not sure.  We try going to the left, but it doesn't seem to help.  This dilemma should probably wait for another entry.)  However, as I'm sure happens in most cities these days, a person cannot walk anywhere without having to dodge between and around other citizens who are fully engaged in their personal hand-held devices whilst also trying to get somewhere.  I cannot count the number of times I have been trying to get out of the way for these technozombies, and yet they still manage to practically run me over.

So, here's where Little Miss T comes in.  If she were still around today, I think her perception (in a slightly perverse way) would be that it was a gift that either a) she got plowed down by a technozombie, b) had to take 10 steps out of her way to allow for technozombie to pass, or c) that in her attempt to get out of the way of technozombie, she stepped into a busy street and got nicked by a double decker bus (and broke her arm.)  She would likely say that she counted this experience as joy, because she was made little or invisible.

This simple situation takes place daily in my life.  Truth be told, I might have let one or two people run into me, in a sort of "serves you right" mentality.  Then there are other times when I move out of the way when I just get peeved, but then feel a little guilty, because maybe I should count it as joy to be "serving" others by considering them to be the "least of these."

Maybe I'm taking this all too far and it's not really a spiritual matter.  Anyone have any thoughts?

Still In Awe

In the news this week…

I scheduled an appointment with our “GP” (general practitioner, or doctor) at our local NHS (National Health Services) surgery (office).  I’m a little excited to see what this social healthcare thing looks like, and to flash my special paper card with my special number on it and not have to pay a dime. 

At this month’s Community Meal at church, we had a great number of women and girls (and two grown men, one of whom was my husband) sitting around, knitting and crocheting, in preparation for next week’s yarn bombing.  Not sure how much actually got accomplished that will go toward the project, but it was fun to see, anyway.

After some deliberation, I wrote up a list of my current responsibilities in my work, and some potential responsibilities.  This came out of a sense of not knowing exactly what was expected of me, though I knew I had agreed to a good bit.  The clarity was helpful, especially as we’re settling into routines, and I have things I know I should be doing.  As I don’t have a particularly rigid schedule (10-5, like Justin has a couple days a week), it’s hard to know sometimes where to start … Working from home with non-tangible results is a big change for me.

It’s snowing right now.  What’s with this, England?  Apparently, this March has been unseasonably cold.  Not impressed, though life goes on, so whatever.

We still feel a sense of awe that we’re living in London.  Last night as we traveled home by bus after spending the evening with a church member, I caught myself in a sense having to process each storefront we passed.  Turkish delis, corner stores with food from Eastern Europe, lots of fried chicken places, Nigerian, Middle Eastern, Jamaican restaurants …all within a very short period on the bus.  Certainly, we’ve had similar exposure to such things in NYC, Philly, or D.C., but we’re living here and it’s awesome.  Granted, we don’t eat out much so it’s not like we’re gaining first hand experience on the plethora of food establishments, but simply that the option is there -- in most neighborhoods across the city – is the joy of the city, I suppose.  Then, of course, is the accessibility to ancient churches, museums, etc.  Don’t let us ever complain that we’re bored!