You are an inspiration to me

"You are an inspiration to me."

Those words were about the last thing I expected to hear when a group of us from First United Church met with Joseph, a legislative aid to U.S. Rep. Danny Davis in Washington, DC. We were there for Ecumenical Advocacy Days, and we had 30 minutes in the Congressman's office to talk about issues related to a fair federal budget and human rights issues in Latin America.

I began by saying we were there to preach the good news of Jesus Christ, who proclaimed liberation for those who are oppressed and poor. Secondly, we were there as constituents who VOTE and citizens of the republic. Thirdly, we were there as friends and companions to our partners in the Presbyterian Church of Colombia.

Joseph's eyes got kind of wide when I started talking about Jesus. Maybe people in Washington aren't used to that kind of talk . . . at least when it is connected to justice and love for people in other countries. And he really paid attention when Mahala and Laurand, two of our youth delegates, began to articulate the issues. Five million people in Colombia have been displaced. Their rights to restitution are difficult to claim. Labor leaders are subject to harassment and assassination. U.S. military and police presence contributes to violence.

We asked the Congressman to use his power to influence American involvement in Colombia, to support development aid rather than weapons. We asked for enforcement of labor protections prior to the implementation of the Colombia Free Trade Agreement. We asked for the U.S. to monitor treatment of those who have been displaced from their homes and lands.

And by the end of our visit, he turned to us and said, "You all are an inspiration to me!" Rep. Davis signed a Dear Colleague letter that we asked him to endorse.

Sometimes God's work happens in surprising ways. I was glad our presence made Joseph's day. May he -- and all public servants -- be inspired to continue working for liberty and justice for all.

Three Pairs of Black Pants and Holy Saturday

Today is Holy Saturday, the day when Christ lay in the tomb, before he rose on Easter Sunday. Jesus and his followers were Jewish, so this was their Sabbath. They were unable to do any work, so this was a day of silence and rest. On this day of Holy Week, nothing happened.

I went to do my laundry early this morning, and I realized I had three pairs of black pants in one load of wash. Black is our Holy Week uniform at First United. I wore all black for Maundy Thursday. I wore all black for the Good Friday Walk of Justice from noon to 3 pm in Chicago. And I wore all black for the Good Friday service last night at First United. It is a week of mourning, a week of pain, coming after six weeks of Lent.

I am ready to change my wardrobe. Enough fasting. Enough repentance. Enough tears. Enough sadness. I am ready. I know today Jesus lies in the tomb.

But tomorrow it will be Resurrection time. One more day to wait and watch.

The Spirituality of Subtraction

What I'm giving up for Lent: buying books, clothes and music.

I know, all of those are good things. They are so good that I have waaaaay too many of all three. My bookshelves are overflowing, and I have three or four stacks of books sitting on the floor of my bedroom. My closet is chock-full, mostly stuff I bought at resale shops or got as gifts, but still . . . . And let's not talk about music. I have CDs stashed in every room in my house, as well as my car, and then there's the I Pod and the laptop. You get the idea.

So I am practicing what Meister Eckhart (1260-1327) called the Spirituality of Subtraction. He was a Dominican priest and mystic in German who said the spiritual life has more to do with subtraction than addition.

We are so shaped by our capitalist, consumerist worldview that we think of everything as an object for our personal consumption. We add more to life, even in the area of spirituality. More services, more scripture, more sacraments, and more good deeds.

It's dangerous to bring that attitude of consumption to our religious life. Lent is about letting go, Lent is about doing without, Lent is about releasing our attachment to things.

So I'm finding a lot of freedom in this Lenten discipline. I recycle all the catalogs that arrive, I delete all the enticing emails from Amazon, and I borrow other people's music instead of buying my own. My toughest day so far was going to DSW Shoe Warehouse with my daughter to buy something for HER. Somehow, I resisted the temptation to get something for myself.

With the free time and money I have from "subtracting" clothing, books and music from my shopping list, I can make a more generous contribution to our One Great Hour of Sharing Offering. How beautiful is that?

Ashes to Go

Next Wednesday, 2/22, is Ash Wednesday. In many Christian churches, people gather in worship to pray, to confess sins, and to receive a mark of humility: ashes on the forehead.

A lot of people feel kind of embarassed walking around with ashes on their faces. That's the point. We're supposed to feel humble on Ash Wednesday. The word "humility" comes from the root of the word humus, meaning "dirt." When we receive ashes, we hear the words, "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."

Ash Wednesday is the first day of Lent, when we are invited to humble ourselves before God.

But you know a lot of people don't go to church. Maybe they don't have time. Maybe they're out of the habit. Maybe they don't understand our language or our music or our rituals. But everyone is a seeker. Everyone is a seeker.

So this year, I will be joining a half dozen other pastors in Oak Park to offer Ashes to Go. We will stand outside El stations and Metra platforms, at the corner of Lake and Marion, and the corner of Lake and Oak Park, and we will offer people Ashes to Go.

Instead of asking them to come inside the church, we will go to them. We will hold signs and wear clerical collars and offer people a ritual of repentance, an invitation to deeper prayer.

That's how God works, isn't it? God comes to us, where we are, and touches us. We find God in places we never expected.

I hope to see you in our sanctuary at 7:00 pm on 2/22/12. But if not, maybe I'll see you on Lake Street. "Turn away from your sins, and believe the good news." God is with us.

Slow Church

Sunlight warmed our bodies as we gathered in the chapel at Dominican University on a mild January afternoon. We were on retreat, and Sara Stevenson gave us instructions for a walking meditation.

In silence, we selected partners. Then, in pairs, we began to walk . . . verrrrrry slooooooowly. We quietly lifted one foot from the ground, raised our knee with dignity and deliberate attention to the pace of our partner, then with great care placed that foot back on the floor. Each step was slow and thoughtful. Instead of focusing on reaching our destination as quickly as possible, we concentrated on taking each step . . . one slow movement at a time.

Slow walking is a simple action, yet a spiritually profound one. It reminds us that there are some things God can teach us only very slowly, at a walking pace. God spent 40 years teaching the Israelites to depend upon divine guidance during their long exodus from Egypt. God spent 40 days teaching Jesus to listen in the desert before he began his ministry.

Theologian Kosuke Koyama says God teaches and walks slowly because God is love, and the speed of love is slow. It is attentive. It notices. Koyama says God walks three miles an hour because that’s the speed of our walking and God walks beside us in love.

Walk humbly with God. Match your pace with God’s pace. Slow down. Practice paying attention. Experience the power of divine slowing. Focus on each step, each moment. Have you noticed that good things take time?

Why did Jesus leave his friends to pray?

I've been planning for a one-day retreat all week, and every time I do this, I remember Jesus often "went off by himself to a quiet place to pray." The gospels frequently mention that Jesus slipped away to a mountaintop or a seashore to spend time talking with God.

For years I've thought it was because Jesus was holy that he was always going off alone to pray.

But sometimes I think the disciples were driving him crazy, and Jesus occasionally needed to get away from them just to maintain his sanity.

You know, that happens to me. I'll be spending time with family members whom I love, or friends whom I treasure, and then all of a sudden they will say something that really sets me off. And so I go off by myself and try to recover. Usually after a few minutes or a few hours, I calm down and feel more reasonable and can approach the person I love with grace and peace. Then everything is fine.

Could it be that Jesus was just as human? I hope so.

No wonder we need retreats now and then. We need the perspective, to be better friends and lovers.

Making Space for God

I spent Advent this year making space for God. I threw out things I don't need. I set aside a few minutes each day for prayer and gratitude. I didn't buy as many gifts as usual, and spent more time writing cards to loved ones.

Instead of being full of myself, I'm trying to be full of God.

I was inspired by this Lao Tzu poem, called "The Uses of Not."

Thirty spokes meet in the hub.
Where the wheel isn't is where it's useful.
Hollowed out, clay makes a pot.
Where the pot's not is where it's useful.
Cut doors and windows to make a room.
Where the room isn't, there's room for you.

When we empty ourselves, we make space for God. We leave room to listen to the better angels of our nature.

May the angels sing to you, bringing good news of great joy to all people! Christmas blessings.