Serious faith for misfits, lousy joiners, and other homesick souls
Stephen Colbert’s act is a sham, and it is a brilliant one. He executes the act so well that it took an entire segment of America months to figure out it was parody. Colbert’s greatest contribution to American politics is a word he himself coined, “truthiness.”
“Don’t take candy from strangers,” is one of the first proverbial lessons we try to teach our children. Its up there with looking both ways before you cross the street. It is even higher than, “stop, drop and roll.” Its an important precursor to, “there is no such thing as a free lunch.” But it is also why my friend Rich thinks that Halloween (not all saints day, not all souls day, not a ‘harvest festival,” but Halloween) is one of the best holidays for Christians and Burners to celebrate, precisely because it is so much about candy and strangers…
Today is All Soul’s Day. It is a day designated to remember loved ones who have died and to do so with hope and mercy. When you miss someone, like I miss my Dad, you tend go look back with mercy. I don’t forget our little conflicts or misunderstandings but I certainly care less about them, a lot less. I’d take 100 more spats to have him back around for just a little while. Its why I am so fond of All Soul’s Day. It feels like “All Saint’s Day for the rest of us.”
Today my friend Patty threatened to send me a card, a care package, or a small car stuffed with clowns to help me endure the couch induced doldrums I have while mending from having my foot improved. Long time friend Matthew happened to call last night as I was mulling over some difficult transitions in some long term relationships. Noah and Camila came over and carved out jack-o-lanterns in a way that I assumed were carving holiday-themed neuro-pathways in their little skulls as well as little hope shaped etches in my cynical soul. Just when you hit a funk or things get dreary, sometimes a little gem cmes your way. These are little jokes, little providences and interventions that make me tilt my head and see I may have been reading life, well, wrong.
O Lord, thinking about you, being fascinated with theological ideas and discussions, being excited about histories of Christian spirituality and stimulated by thoughts and ideas about prayer and meditation, all of this can be as much an expression of greed as the unruly desire for food, possessions, or power.
Every day I see again that only you can teach me to pray, only you can set my heart at rest, only you can let me dwell in your presence. No book, no idea, no concept or theory will ever bring me close to you unless you yourself are the one who lets these instruments become the way to you.
But Lord, let me at least remain open to your initiative; let me wait patiently and attentively for that hour when you will come and break through all the walls I have erected. Teach me, O Lord, to pray.
-Henri Nouwen, in A Cry for Mercy
Since the semester in Los Angeles that I read “Compassion” (which was co-authored by Henri Nouwen), I have had both the desire as well as the conviction that I needed to live in an intentional community. In 2003 I was confirmed Roman Catholic for many reasons, the greater of which was to discern a vocation to the be a monk or join some other order. As of the date of this writing I neither live in a formal intentional community or a monastic order. I do not have a family or a partner and am not moving toward having one. So when I read St Benedict’s instruction on stability I have reasonable fears that I may be a “gyrovague.”
It was a rocky and complicated relationship I had with the church I was attending in Pasadena, California I had been attending. By rocky I mean horrible and by complicated I mean extremely painful. Even though by then I knew that it was the Body of Christ, the Church, that was the love of my life, I was seriously considering a separation. I don’t know how these ecclesial spats get rolling but when they do it can quickly become a snowball from hell. I thank God Kevin moved to town or my faith may well have gone a different direction.
Right out of college I attended the Los Angeles Church of the Nazarene while I was studying Urban Ministry there. The Church community was very intentional about ministering in the city, being hospitable to everyone, and really living life in community. It was there that I met “George Man.” George is a character, a man with a remarkably interesting life and a man who demands a lot of attention from you when you are around him. Even though I have moved far away from him, 18 years later he is still shaping my life.
When I was just out of college I was pretty hell-bent on changing the world. Hopefully I still am but back then I was far less patient to see the results of my efforts. I had moved to the heart of Los Angeles to study a year of urban studies as well as fulfill an internship at the First Church of The Nazarene on Third & Vermont. I was ready for adventure, but not for the hard work of everyday care and concern for other who sometimes annoyed me. Nevertheless something clicked at the county hospital one day when I tried to help “Ninja” get his teeth fixed.
We had spent the weekend at what was one of the all-time greatest celebrations of my life. We adorned our bodies with streamers and danced to the flute and accordion just before we processed in to the great foot washing service we were about to celebrate. It was a retreat being animated by Jean Vanier, the founder of L’Arche which is a organization of small communities all over the world of people with more and less visible disabilities living an intentionally communal life. We gathered in small circles to begin this incredibly physical and intimate rite of love. I’ve participated in this before but I had never entirely understood it like I suddenly did watching the group next to me. And it all hinged on a man who has never walked or spoken.
