Body Ascension

Then he said to them, "These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you--that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled." Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high." Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. And they worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

Luke 24:44-53

Today is Ascension Day. As such I thought I might ponder something ascension-ey. Reformed Church folk, in my limited experience, don’t do a whole lot with Ascension Day. We certainly believe and think stuff ascension related; it’s part of our theology. It’s in our creeds and may be incorporated into our worship language. But otherwise, we don’t do much with it.

That is why in the local church setting I have appreciated working with neighboring congregations. For the last couple of years the good people of Trinity Lutheran Church in Middle Village, Queens have welcomed the good people of Trinity Reformed to worship with them. And this year, I had the opportunity to not only preach but also preside at the Lord’s Supper. To be fair, I’m not sure that the Lutherans necessarily do anything more with Ascension Day than the Reformed do, other than joining to worship on this day. Also to eat following the service. But when we officially meet to eat, then that’s definitely meaningful and significant. Although, it was only goulash and noodles, so again, maybe not that meaningful. In any event, I’m wondering today, what if any are some of the Ascension Day practices you and your congregation employ?

Celebrating the sacrament in a Lutheran setting on Ascension Day gave me much opportunity to compare and contrast differing perspectives on communion and how we understand the body of Christ and his “location.” I think today in particular, however, I was also aware of my own body, leading a congregation in worship that was predominantly not my own, in a setting that was not my home, and with a liturgy and ritual that I was not familiar with. To top it off, I’m dealing with a head cold and my body feels and sounds different. Thus, it was a gentle reminder that earlier today a Jesuit friend posted on Facebook the importance of the body to this day, that Christ ascended bodily.

The Ascension, by Salvador Dali

A Question Before We Merge

I found Jeff Monroe’s post Merge! both thought and emotionally provoking.Coincidentally—or in this forum perhaps I should say providentially—the news media have been reporting on the recent sale of Edvard Munch’s The Scream, which I find maybe only tangentially connected, but connected nonetheless.

But first to Jeff’s task: “I believe the Christian Reformed Church in North America and the Reformed Church in America should merge.  Please tell me why they shouldn’t.”

Before I could even begin to explore this I wonder two other questions: Firstly, why should we merge? Secondly, and probably more importantly, what does it mean to be Reformed Church in America?

The first question Jeff’s post only begins to get at but is certainly written in the attitude that unity is a biblically and theologically warranted practice that we should be doing or moving towards, of which I am in complete agreement. Enough has been studied and shared that more isn’t necessary. I think of especially, An Ecumenical Mandate for the RCA and significant materials relating to the Belhar Confession. Even so, there are some in both the RCA and the CRC who would find issue of “purity” to be just as important as unity and worthy of trumping unity. My own conviction is that Jesus meant it when he prayed that we might be one. I’m all for unity. Although admittedly, I’m not sure merger is the best way to that unity.

As it relates to my second question, of what does it mean to be RCA, I am speaking from my own perspective and the context of my particular congregation. The same question could and should be asked from one’s own denominational context. It seems a little silly to have to say but let’s assume from the get-go that to be RCA is to be Christian, biblical, Reformed, as well as evangelical and catholic in the best and historic senses of those terms. So what else? What else is definable or discernibly RCA? Even that question demonstrates a difficulty in that we don’t even have a good moniker to use. RCAer? Reformed? Both terms seem to lack a certain something. Say for instance you are trying to tell a joke, “A Baptist, a Presbyterian, an Episcopalian, a Lutheran, a Methodist, and a Congregationalist all went into a bar…” What are you suppose to use for the RCA person? Are we not to enter bars?

I don’t know what it’s like among the CRC crowd, but in the RCA what I often hear (myself, included) when describing who we are is, “it’s like the Presbyterians…” We also sometimes inevitably fall back on “historically, Dutch Reformed.” Whereas the RCA is certainly like the Presbyterian church, I think to be Presbyterian—be it conservative, liberal, or moderate—is to have a discernable identity, one that I’m not so sure exists in the RCA. Presbyterian roots go back to Scotland and other parts of the British isles, yet they are certainly not wedded to their historical cultural founders.

While the RCA is certainly historically Dutch Reformed, I think that particular identifier carries with it baggage and I wonder what relevance it currently has in expressing our identity. I appreciated Professor Smith’s earlier post on this blog, “Don't Burn the Wooden Shoes Just Yet.” I’m a product of Hope College and Western Theological Seminary. I get our Dutch heritage. During the 2010 World Cup, I wore my orange jersey. And I look forward to one day dressing up my poor children in Dutch outfits, putting them into fields of tulips, and taking their pictures. That said, at least in the RCA context I’m not convinced that “Dutchness” is enough of an aspect to our denominational identity and where it is, it brings with it significant ambiguity. I celebrate our Dutch heritage and its contemporary presence in the midst of our growing racial and cultural diversity. And that’s just it, we are a culturally diverse (and growing ever more so) church. We may have Dutch roots but our limbs are of a much greater variety. Which leads me back to my original exploration, what does it mean to be an RCA person if it isn’t rooted in our denomination’s historic ethnic culture?

It may seem counterintuitive, but I’m going to use a culturally heavy and overused RCA term here and I mean it in a good way. (Whenever some one has to explain they mean something in a good way, be careful.) RCA bingo, usually said as “Dutch bingo” where one person meets another at an RCA function and from that contact makes relational connections that unites the two persons. It used to be that those connections were rooted in an ethnic and cultural Dutch milieu; yet now in the RCA, as diverse as we are—and we are growing ever more diverse racially/ethnically, theologically, politically, regionally, etc.—we are still as a core aspect of our identity, relational. We are still connected. Obviously, that’s because we are a small denomination. And certainly, we still have common points of connections, say our colleges and seminaries. Yet those common points are fewer and fewer. Still, we are a relational people. What does it mean to be RCA? It has something to do with our identity relationally speaking.

I’m sure there are other things also, that make us RCA, but I struggle with this question. I think the RCA struggles with this question as a whole. We have a tough time moving forward when we don’t clearly understand who we are and how to foster and share from that perspective. For our identity is directly connected to our unity as a body of believer. We don’t have a clear identity, we don’t have a whole lot of unity within our denomination. So why am I dwelling on this? It is difficult sometimes, to say the least, (and one could say it has always been) within the RCA to have unity among ourselves. Now, the argument has been made and used before, “let’s get our own house in order first.” I am not saying that. But I do wonder if we are misequating unity and merger. Because, if so, I wonder if we could first merge the RCA with the RCA. Oh, wait…which brings me back to Munch’s The Scream, because every now and then working within the church for unity can bring you to do as the painting depicts.

Why shouldn’t the CRC and RCA merge? As the comment section under Jeff’s post has listed, there are a few reasons. But asked, why shouldn’t the CRC and RCA have unity? Then I think there are no reason why we shouldn’t. And all the following reasons from the bible (and the Belhar Confession!) why we should. Let’s keep working on unity. And step by step, maybe merger will simply be the inevitable result. Perhaps, the RCA and the CRC could show how to live out gospel unity in a broken world in tangible ways, and possibly even be leaders.

From the Belhar Confession

We Believe:

• that Christ's work of reconciliation is made manifest in the church as the community of believers who have been reconciled with God and with one another (Eph. 2:11-22);
• that unity is, therefore, both a gift and an obligation for the church of Jesus Christ; that through the working of God's Spirit it is a binding force, yet simultaneously a reality which must be earnestly pursued and sought: one which the people of God must continually be built up to attain (Eph. 4:1-16);
• that this unity must become visible so that the world may believe that separation, enmity and hatred between people and groups is sin which Christ has already conquered, and accordingly that anything which threatens this unity may have no place in the church and must be resisted (John 17:20-23);
• that this unity of the people of God must be manifested and be active in a variety of ways: in that we love one another; that we experience, practice and pursue community with one another; that we are obligated to give ourselves willingly and joyfully to be of benefit and blessing to one another; that we share one faith, have one calling, are of one soul and one mind; have one God and Father, are filled with one Spirit, are baptized with one baptism, eat of one bread and drink of one cup, confess one name, are obedient to one Lord, work for one cause, and share one hope; together come to know the height and the breadth and the depth of the love of Christ; together are built up to the stature of Christ, to the new humanity; together know and bear one another's burdens, thereby fulfilling the law of Christ that we need one another and upbuild one another, admonishing and comforting one another; that we suffer with one another for the sake of righteousness; pray together; together serve God in this world; and together fight against all which may threaten or hinder this unity (Phil. 2:1-5; 1 Cor. 12:4-31; John 13:1-17; 1 Cor. 1:10-13; Eph. 4:1-6; Eph. 3:14-20; 1 Cor. 10:16-17; 1 Cor. 11:17-34; Gal. 6:2; 2 Cor. 1:3-4);
• that this unity can be established only in freedom and not under constraint; that the variety of spiritual gifts, opportunities, backgrounds, convictions, as well as the various languages and cultures, are by virtue of the reconciliation in Christ, opportunities for mutual service and enrichment within the one visible people of God (Rom. 12:3-8; 1 Cor. 12:1-11; Eph. 4:7-13; Gal. 3:27-28; James 2:1-13);
• that true faith in Jesus Christ is the only condition for membership of this church.

Through the Glass...

For some time now I’ve been trying to figure out where I fit in this whole The Twelve: Reformed. Done Daily. thing. When this blog began, we writers were instructed regarding the content: “the subject matter will be wide open and entirely at your discretion.” I appreciate that in the wisdom of the editors at Perspectives, it was recognized that to be reformed touched a variety of aspects of life (or even all aspects?) and they were intentional to be wide open to the possibilities. I’ve greatly enjoyed my fellow bloggers’ posts and can often—when and where I know them or have experienced them personally—hear their voices. But returning to whence I began, what is my voice and how does it fit here?

All of us speak from the context of “the church.” Certainly, I’ve not read a single entry that did not have a word to share from/in/for or to that perspective. But we also speak from a specific “church,” a certain vocational setting and particular location. For me, when I read The Twelve or Perspectives, my mind immediately wonders how it connects to my folks here at Trinity, where I serve, and the wider community of which we are a part.

I’m still not entirely sure how I fit in this entire The Twelve thing, but I do know that it has to do with the church where I work and live and worship and grow. The church, Trinity Reformed Church of Brooklyn, specifically is the lens through which I engage this blogging endeavor. For whatever it’s worth, Trinity is how I fit into this thing. As the Apostle Paul so beautifully said—at least when he was speaking the King James English—“for now we see through a glass, darkly…” I thought I’d share with you the view I have as I look out through my lens of Trinity, or through the glass, if you will, quite literally.

Thus, looking out the windows of Trinity, literally my viewpoint, a pictorial:

When I think of church windows, mostly I think of windows like this one, The Good Samaritan, one of many beautiful stained glass windows in Trinity’s Sanctuary:

 

We also have this one, a small portion of the widow above the chancel. For those who may not recognize it, this is the Reformed Church in America’s former symbol, the coat of arms:

 

Trinity is a worshipping community, so it made sense to show some of the windows from the sanctuary. But the above ones aren’t what I really want to show you. It’s the views from those less expected. For instance entering the sanctuary from downstairs one may go through the door with windows and have this view (with cool reflection):

 

The same windows from the other side:

 

Or entering the sanctuary’s balcony:

 

Or entering the sanctuary from the narthex:

 

The same window the other way around:

 

And now having entered to worship, we go out to serve. So looking out, this is the view from the sanctuary out into the church courtyard:

 

Or looking out through the stained glass:

This is the window we were looking out:

 

Or this rose colored glass:

 

Or leaving the narthex, entering the wild streets of New York (in central pane, notice man crossing street, jaywalking(!) followed closely by school bus):

 

This is a view from the window of my office. It looks out into our Fellowship Hall. (Pardon the mess, please, as we are currently doing some remodeling of our kitchen and it has overflown into the view.) While empty on a Thursday afternoon, in a few hours this room will be full of men in women in one of the 12 step programs that almost nightly fill this room:

 

While some of our windows look out to beautiful scenery such as street trees:

or the church courtyard:

Other windows tend to block the view entirely, such as the window in the downstairs men’s room looks out into an air shaft:

or window looking across neighbor’s alley:

or window view from boiler room air shaft:

and further view:

 

Sometimes from various church windows we can even view "ourself" such as the view looking back across the central courtyard from the manse:

and again:

and again:

 

But the views that perhaps matters most are those looking out into the neighborhood where "Trinity" really lives and works and follows Christ:

and:

 

A Mandate to Love, And What Comes With It

The Order of Worship for an Ordination and Installation service of any of the three offices in the RCA (Deacon, Elder, and Minister of Word and Sacrament) promulgates that: “By the Holy Spirit all who believe and are baptized receive a ministry to witness to Jesus as Savior and Lord, and to love and serve those with whom they live and work.” (emphasis mine) It’s a kind of generic exhortation, that all the baptized are called to love. Yet in the context of ordained church leadership, one could hear that they especially are called to love. Participating recently in the ordination/installation process of all three offices I took some time to study over the liturgies, formularies, and government of the RCA and locate the role that love has, specifically to one who is like myself, a Minister. So for instance, in our ordination/installation liturgy, the Minister or candidate promises in the formulary declaration “to walk in the Spirit of Christ, in love and fellowship within the church…” and later in the charge to the minister: “Love Christ: feed his lambs, tend his sheep. Be an example…in love…” The Book of Church Order states that along with preaching and teaching the Word of God, administering the sacraments, and sharing the responsibility with elders and deacons in leading the congregations, the minister “exercises Christian love” (BCO 1.I.1.4). You get the gist. Christians are suppose to love, you know, that “thy neighbor thing.” And it would seem, especially we would expect our ministers to love.

I suppose this homing in on the love issue is in part because today is Maundy Thursday. I had learned in high school Latin class that Maundy was in reference to the Latin word for commandment, mandatum. Jesus says, as recorded in John 13:34-35: I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.

It’s not really the love thing specifically that I’m thinking about today, however, as much as what comes with it, grief.

The cliché gets repeated often enough, “seminary never taught you that” fill in the blank. There is simply too much that seminaries are expected to prepare you for, that I don’t expect them to do it all. And anyway, I’d rather blame my seminary education for other things…

But it is nevertheless true, I wasn’t prepared for the grief. Oh, sure, we got training in pastoral care. And boundaries. Family systems. Clinical Pastoral Education. Etc. And probably we could all use a good therapist. Yah, yah, yah, but I’m not talking about any of that explicitly.

And sure, ministers certainly aren’t the only ones who are called to love, and thus, to deal with the grief that goes with it. I’m not trying to say, “look at me!” Nor am I complaining about it. I suppose I’m just stating the fact, there comes a lot of grief in ministry.

A couple weeks ago I was visiting a parishioner in the hospital, a beloved member of our congregation who has battled with cancer for decades. She was an immigrant to this country, came here with little and accomplished much, the American dream. Yet she has lost two husbands to cancer. Still, she raised four children, very well I might say for they have grown into wonderful adults. She has embodied strength and courage, grace and dignity. After praying with her as I have done on so many occasions and leaving the hospital I found my eyes quickly “got glassy.” By the time I was seated in my car I was weeping. Weeping not just for her but for many.

This has been an especially poignant season of Lent for our little church observing directly five funerals in that many weeks, and indirectly two more. And again, don’t misunderstand me; I’m not talking about a “dying church.” While we are indeed an urban congregation in transition, we’re generally pretty vibrant, working things out, growing and changing in the process. But all that said, we are grieving. And I their minister am grieving too.

Which leads me back to where I started, and that is about ministers being called to love. When one loves, one will eventually grieve. That’s not a bad thing. But during a season of Lent where the weight of grief has been palpable I am finding comfort in the entire journey of Holy Week, looking forward to the hope and assurance of Easter, but allowing this Maundy Thursday and Good Friday to have their own fullness as well.

I don’t have any good transition to end here other than to say I have always found Nicholas Wolterstorff’s Lament for a Son very meaningful especially the following expert. And especially on Good Friday.

Blessed are those who mourn,

for they shall be comforted.

“Blessed are those who mourn.” What can it mean? One can understand why Jesus hails those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, why he hails the merciful, why he hails the pure in heart, why he hails the peacemakers, why he hails those who endue under persecution. These are qualities of character which belong to the life of the kingdom. But why does he hail the mourners of the world? Why cheer tears? It must be that mourning is also a quality of character that belongs to the life of his realm.

Who then are the mourners? The mourners are those who have caught a glimpse of God’s new day, who ache with all their being for that day’s coming, and who break out into tears when confronted with its absence. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm of peace there is no one blind and who ache whenever they see someone unseeing. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm there is no one hungry and who ache whenever they see someone starving. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm there is no one falsely accused and who ache whenever they see someone imprisoned unjustly. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm there is no one who fails to see God and who ache whenever they see someone unbelieving. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm there is no one who suffers oppression and who ache whenever they see someone beat down. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm there is no one without dignity and who ache whenever they see someone treated with indignity. They are the ones who realize that in God’s realm of peace there is neither death nor tears and who ache whenever they see someone crying tears over death. The mourners are aching visionaries.

Spring Chickens

Today is one of those lovely spring days you get when it seems as though life is simply bursting forth exuberantly all around. Birds are singing, butterflies are drifting about, the trees are ablaze with blooms, and even the air is perfumed with the subtle yet significant fragrance of flowers, mostly hyacinths. While enjoying such beautiful weather on only the third day of spring makes me extremely leery, I have nonetheless set up a temporary office out in the church courtyard to experience as much of this as possible even as I’m hoping against the great possibility that we could have a freezing episode that could squelch much of this present but early energy.

Days like today demonstrate just how precious all this is and one needs to drink in the beauty. It also can lend one to wax poetic, or prosaic as the case may be.

Life in tenacious. Albeit a mild winter…yet so much abundance ready to spring out after a few days of warm sunshine. Even the small critters in the soil—ants, slugs, and earthworms—have become active. As I type this I share the courtyard space with my two hens, city chickens who have become like congregational mascots to our parish. With the rumble of the M subway train in the distance and the honks and sirens of urban traffic, Ila and Lisa (those are the hens’ proper names) scamper about the small tidy churchyard eating grass, scratching up insects and sprouts, and sunning themselves in the rays of sunlight that filter through the trees and around the neighboring buildings.

I often get asked, “Why do you have chickens?” and have put a lot of thought into the answer. One response is that it has become “cool,” perhaps a fad in many places. I certainly don’t find that a legitimate reason by any means for me to have poultry in the city, but it does demonstrate that we’re not the only ones.

On a beautiful day as today however, with them frolicking about me, let me put down in words the reasons why I have chickens:

1. First and foremost, I have them for food—the eggs they produce. It may seem like a small thing and perhaps akin to anyone raising their own summer tomatoes or pot of herbs—be it in their backyard, stoop, or patio—but in growing (raising, nurturing, assisting into fruition) the food you consume it connects you to that which is basic, primal, and universal in our humanity, and something that is quickly being lost in our modern society. In the United States fewer than two percent of the population are farmers and way too many of us are so far removed from where physical nourishment comes from. So, having chickens keeps me grounded and keeps me connected to the food I eat. Plus, it really good food! The eggs are really fresh and local and mostly organic and I know exactly what the girls eat, thus I know the kind of food that I eat. They also blend in well with my garden and that whole backyard ecology thing, eating bugs and weeds and things that I can't and using their poo to fertilize my vegetables. For instance, because they regularly get to “free range” and eat a goodly amount of green grass and other plants, they produce eggs with a higher concentration of heart healthy omega 3’s. I also appreciate the wonderful little circle of life I’m surrounded by. There is too the issue of the meat that they could provide. When I first got them as fuzzy little peeps I certainly thought that I could someday eat them. I’ve slaughtered poultry in the past and have experience in the process. Due to particular circumstances, however, the girls have ended up as my pets and not my dinner.
2. Which brings me to the second aspect, which is so true on a day like today. They are my pets and they are a lot of fun just to watch and interact with. Even if they weren’t pets, they’re still fascinating critters to observe. And relaxing too. Animals, whether from nature or domestic are important for people to connect to, to stay connected with life, and even, to what makes us human. To take time and enjoy all of God's creation.
3. Just as importantly, I have chickens because they connect me with where I came from. I’ve shared in this blog before about growing up on a dairy farm where we also had chickens. My parents farmed, my grandparents farmed, my great grandparents farmed—with my great grandfather being a full time chicken farmer back in the day. Having chickens in New York City, while hardly making me a farmer, certainly connects me to my roots and my family for many generations, and that is important to me.

So, that’s some of why I have chickens.

But there are additional benefits. Every Sunday morning the kids purposely bee-line it over to Ila’s and Lisa’s coop to check up on them. Participants in our Narcotics Anonymous and Al Anon programs regularly inquire of them. Our Ladies Aid/Frauenverein have even incorporated the girls’ eggs into their bake sales. Even folks from the neighborhood who might otherwise walk quickly past the church will slow down and look for the girls. Oddly enough, they’ve become a tool for outreach!

Yesterday, during confirmation class the youth described their image of God. We had a lot of that traditional “old man in a robe” stuff. But we also included the beautiful image that Christ uses desiring to embrace and hold Jerusalem as a mothering hen (Matthew 23:37 and Luke 13:34). Every now and again, the chickens can become a teaching device too!