On Children, Communion, and an "Open Table"

A few months ago, my family was on vacation in Kansas City, MO and on Sunday morning we visited a congregation that we sometimes worship with when we are not with our home churches.  This congregation is a small group of Disciples who do a wonderful job in making all who enter into the worship space feel welcomed and like a critical element of the community.  When it came time for communion, my wife and I were a tad uncertain about how our then- 2 year old would handle going up front to partake in the elements.  Expecting a touch of chaos, we got in the back of the line so that no one would be waiting on us.   When it came time for our son to tear of the bread and dip it into the cup he did so joyfully and eagerly.  After eating the Bread he turned to my wife and I and proclaimed loudly, “I want more!”   This was a holy moment for our family, and I was thankful to this congregation for welcoming our son into that time of sacredness.   Thankfully, there are many of our congregations in the DoC that share in a similar practice of inclusivity, however, I know that this is not universal, and I know that there is still some question about when (and how) our children can share in the Table.

 This is a sensitive issue for some within our Denominational family, and I really have never fully understood why.  I’ve never really understood the tension between proclaiming an “open table” and then setting up a stipulation that essentially says, “The Table will be open to you, once you meet a certain set of criteria.” I believe this also sends a conflicting and possibly damaging message to our young people as they continue to try to find their place within the wholeness of Congregational life. 

The most common justification I have heard from folks who are entrenched into the camp that says children must wait until a certain age or until they are baptized, is that until they reach that milestone, don’t “get it.”  Now I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve been a member of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) my entire life, and I’ve been in ministry for ten years, and I still don’t “get” what happens at the Lord’s Table.  I don’t fully understand what it means to share in the fullness of community and grace.  I don’t fully grasp what it means to be loved even to the point of death.  All I know is that I need community, grace, and love and I find all of those things at the Communion table.  And that every time I experience a time of communion, I want more.

Just as I need community, grace, and love I know that our children need to feel these same things and I know that as we continue to attempt to integrate our children into the fullness of worship, they will hear their ministers talking about these things and how Christ offers them to all people. How confusing it must be for them to be told that Christ welcomes all, but then have the communion plate passed over them or to be told to stay in their seats as their parents and older siblings make the journey to the front of the sanctuary. 

As a father, I will never deny my boys the opportunity to share in the meal of Love, and I pray for the day when all our congregations do likewise for all of our children.  

Good News? Great Joy

On Wednesday, December 17, FCC-Midwest City hosted it's annual "Service of Remembrance" for those in our community who's spirits perhaps aren't the brightest this Christmas time.  I was blessed to have the opportunity to bring the message.  I thought I'd share it with the world....

Good News? Great Joy?

Luke 2: 1-11

December 17, 2014

It would have been a lonely night.  Of course, every night is lonely for a shepherd….why would that night have been any different? It would have been cold, too.  Nights get cold on the desert. It would have been dark. 

Lonely.  Cold.  Dark.  Not exactly the scene we think of when we imagine Christmas, is it? Certainly this is a different image than the one that was painted last Sunday night by our children. We’d like to imagine a different picture at Christmastime.  We like to picture Christmas as a time of lights, action, and festive moods.  We hear songs on the radio about friends and family coming from near and far, gathering together to pass pumpkin pie and coffee while singing songs around the old piano.  This is what Christmas should be, right? If we don’t at least attempt to create this picture, if we’re not continuously basking in “the most wonderful time of the year,” we risk being labeled a “Scrooge.”  And who wants to be a Scrooge?

There’s just one small snag, however.  As I read the story of Christmas, more specifically, Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus, I don’t find a big, festive party.  Now, don’t mis-understand what I’m saying, I’m all for partying it up at Christmastime…I mean, I’m the guy who has had Christmas music on in the office since before Thanksgiving.  There is certainly nothing wrong (and there are so many things right) about hanging the lights on the house, passing around the eggnog, and braving the lines at the malls….all I’m suggesting is that there perhaps is another layer to the Christmas story….one that goes beyond the lights, glitz, and glamour of the festive season, and dives into the heart of the everyday reality of life. 

And this is good news for us, because what brings us here to worship here tonight is the realization and understanding that in some way the reality of life has crept in and made a home in the midst of the festive wonder of Christmas.  This can be scary, unsettling experience and realization.  We can wake up one day and realize that like Charlie Brown in “Charlie Brown’s Christmas,” we notice that everyone else is having fun; we recognize that we are supposed to join in those festivities…but for some reason, we just cannot.  This tension can create a lonely feeling that we cannot explain, but from which we cannot shake free.

Thankfully, the Church is now doing a far better job recognizing and acknowledging this reality.  Many different congregations are holding a time of worship like this.  This time gets called by many different names.  Some places call it, “The Longest Night,” others call it “Blue Christmas,” we call it the “Service of Remembrance,” but no matter by what name these sacred moments of worship are called, we know that at the heart of it all, this is a time where we can come and join with friends and family who are kindred spirits and companions on this journey, and we can look around this beautiful sanctuary and give thanks that we are NOT alone. 

We are not alone because of the companions we have beside us tonight, we are not alone because we worship and serve a God who promises to never leave us by ourselves, and we are not alone because as we enter the Christmas story in a new way, we recognize that the stories of those whom the Gospel authors tell us mirror our own stories in so many sacred ways. 

Take, for instance, the Shepherds.  While they are characters that get included in every single rendition of the Christmas story, we don’t often give the shepherds a whole lot of consideration.  But tonight, perhaps we can make a connection between us and them.  Perhaps we can picture them sitting there in the cold, lonely, darkness and we can insert ourselves into their place and them into ours.  Perhaps we think about our own experiences with the darkness…own own moving through our daily routines…just trying to get through the day in one piece.  Perhaps we, like the shepherds, don’t feel like we get a whole lot of consideration….perhaps we, like they, don’t feel like we’re fully understood. 

I mean, it’s hard to understand a shepherd….one who spends his days and night shouldering someone else’s burdens.  It’s hard to connect with one who spends all of their time away from any family or friends, and outside of the hustle and bustle of the city.  And it can be hard sometimes for our friends, neighbors, and family to fully understand us, as people whose festive lights perhaps aren’t exactly shining the brightest.  It’s hard to fully understand and empathize with one who has recently lost a parent or spouse…it’s hard to understand one whose children have recently moved to a new state and who is grieving that newfound separation….it’s hard to understand one who has family members deployed overseas and the worry and stress that causes for the one who stays behind….it’s hard to understand one who struggles with depression, and anxiety, and who can’t fully explain why they feel and think the things they do. It’s hard to understand one who has recently experienced job loss, yet still feels the pressure to create a “good” Christmas for their family.  This can create a new difficult reality, one that we can share with the shepherds, because at the end of the day, I think all that any of us want is to be understood.

The Good News, though, is that our God is a God who understands.  Just as God understood the shepherds, God understands you and me.  We remember that it is to the shepherds that the Angel first broke into that lonely darkness with the news that Emmanuel had been born.  It was the shepherds who heard, “Good News of Great Joy” that they would never again be made to feel alone, because God was with them, and from that moment forward, they would have a companion for their life’s journey. 

And in the same way, we, tonight, hear “Good News of Great Joy” that God is present with us…even in the midst of our uncertainties, our insecurities, our loneliness…God is there….and God is seeking to break into our loneliness and confusion with a proclamation that Emmanuel is with us. And so as we move ever closer to the stable of Bethlehem, let us do so with confidence trusting that no matter the condition of our own spirits, the Spirit of the Living God rests upon us and that Love dwells among us. 

Amen

Seasons Greetings

  "Seasons Greetings"

It's a phrase that is plastered somewhere in every town in every state across the country.When the "Seasons Greetings" banners, signs, and window paint begin making themselves visible, we know that the Christmas season has unofficially begun.  It is a phrase that, for one reason or another has seen itself as a flashpoint for critique, criticism, and debate.  Some view the phrase as the tragic result of "political correctness" and a new assault during the "War on Christmas."  Others understand these combination of words as an invitation for all people to enter into a season of joy, hope, wonder, and amazement.  There has been plenty of conflict between these two camps in regards to these two little words.  A quick perusal of social media will lead us to plenty of images proclaiming the poster's staked out position on this great debate.  For so many, it is a matter of the utmost importance, I, personally find it ridiculous. 

I never had given much (if any) thought to the phrase, that is, until last night...until the events in Ferguson unfolded before our eyes on national television.  There was incredibly brutal irony to be found in the midst of the tragic violence that erupted after the Grand Jury announcement. Forget the rhetoric of "political correctness," and the silly debate on whether or not we have to say, "Merry Christmas," last night, an actual battle took place underneath the "Seasons Greetings" Banner that was strung across the street in downtown Ferguson. Powerful images, such as this one captured the sheer brokenness that unfolded underneath and around a phrase that is meant to usher in a season of hope, peace, joy, and love.  it was a sad moment, and in the midst of everything else, all of the other questions that exist in and around the scenario that continues to unfold in Ferguson, I found my heart breaking.  My heart broke for the family of Michael Brown, who, prior to the announcement, made a passionate plea for peace; my heart broke for the family of Darren Wilson;  my heart broke for the police who were on riot duty last night, instead of preparing for Thanksgiving dinner;  my heart broke for the protesters, both those who stood in peaceful solidarity and those who felt that they had no other recourse than to act out in violent ways; my heart broke for the shop owners whose livelihood was damaged or destroyed in the riots; my heart broke for the people of St. Louis; and I think, ultimately, my heart broke for all of us. 

And it was in that moment, as I watched those events unfold underneath that "Seasons Greetings" banner, not even sure what I was supposed to be feeling or what questions I was supposed to be asking, that I started to understand Christmas a little more fully.  Last night showed me, in a new way, why we desperately need Christmas and why Christmas matters.  The events that unfolded in Ferguson were not unique, it happens every time where fear, suspicion, desperation and oppression (both real and perceived) meet power, authority, and the desire to maintain status quo. This has been one of the narratives of our history as a people, and it is most certainly the narrative into which Jesus was born.  Brokenness and division is a real thing.  It was real 2,000+ years ago when a young couple named Mary and Joseph brought into the world a baby named Jesus, and it is real today.  
But the Good News is that it is into that brokenness that God decides to show up.  Just as I believe with everything I have that God was present among the people of Israel, I believe just as strongly that God was present among the people of Ferguson and I believe that God is present anywhere and everywhere that pain, fear, and brokenness are present.  This is the story of Christmas.  Christmas is a reminder that we are not alone, and it is a promise that eventually, some how, some way, peace and love will overcome fear and violence.  

But this victory does not and can not come about magically or by accident.  Christmas requires direct participation from the brave and the fearful and from the oppressed and the ones doing the oppressing.  Just as God desperately needed Mary and Joseph to participate in Christmas by bringing the light that was and is Jesus into the world, God desperately needs us to do likewise.

So how do we do it?  How do we, even in the midst of the violence and chaos that engulfs our consciousness, commit ourselves to be bearers of light and hope into the world?  it seems to me that it begins and ends with a shift in our mentality and our way of thinking.  It requires a shift in how we see, understand, and interact with the world.  To bear light means that we are willing to begin to take up the mantle of peace.  Since the events in Ferguson began back in August, there has been lots of talk (perhaps justly, perhaps not) about the (de) militarization of our police forces.  There have been questions why local police need some of the pieces of equipment that they currently possess, but not once have I heard a conversation about the (de) militarization of ourselves.  We are a people who are pre-disposed to violence.  We see this in our movies, our video games, our music, our clothing, and our children's cartoons. We discover this as we study our history and read classical works of literature, we are reminded of this when we hear of our beloved actors and sports heroes violently abusing their spouses, children, or other members of society,  and we live this when we watch (or participate in) large scale altercations. Is it any wonder that our police forces have military-grade equipment when we have a military-grade worldview?

I don't have the answer, I don't know the magic word or possess the secret pill.  But I do know that if we continue down this path of violence, it will be our undoing, and I do know that this is not the life we have been called to live.  I do know that we are called to something bigger, better, and more faithful.  I do know that we have been called down the path of peace.  

Perhaps it will be this Christmas.  Perhaps it will be when we wish each other, "Seasons Greetings," "Merry Christmas" or whatever pairing of words suits you.  Perhaps it will be when we gather with our family and friends around the table of love.  Perhaps peace will come when we commit to stop looking with suspicion, and  start seeing the light of the Divine that shines within them.  Perhaps peace will come when we chose to make it so if we can live into the vision of Isaiah who said that peace would come when the people "beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore."

Seasons Greetings.