Hate Mail

The story is that Cary Grant once received a telegram from a reporter writing a bio piece on the actor; in all of the notes the reporter had taken, he had neglected to record Mr. Grant’s age.  And so, he sent the following telegram:

How old Cary Grant? <stop>

The ever witty and suave silver screen idol replied with his own telegram:
Old Cary Grant fine, how you? <stop>

The story may not be true, but I love it.

I once wrote a letter to an old girl friend. A young woman with whom I had ended a long relationship... I did not end it well, as I was enthralled with someone new.  In short, I was a cad.  (yes, we all spoke like that in the 80’s...  “You cad... how deleterious of you to treat me in such a manner”... at least that’s how I remember it.  We also wore spats, I think)

Three years later, I wrote to the woman wronged to apologize.  I confessed my cad-like nature, apologized for the hurt and hoped that we might one day be friends.  A week later, my letter was returned with bold letters across the front declaring “TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE”

The words practically knocked me out of my spats!

Last week, I posted on the Jubilee United Church sign these words:

Blessings and Peace

To our Muslim Friends

In the Holy Month

Of Ramadan.

It seemed a nice gesture.  Acknowledging that many of our neighbours are Muslim.  The same people who wish me “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Easter” when I see them on the street or in their places of business  (at the appropriate time of year, of course.. we don’t just go around issuing holiday greetings out of context in Don Mills).  Within two hours of posting the sign, I received an email – some of which I will quote:

     I drove by your building today, (looks like a community centre), and I noticed your marquee, and was appalled by the message.  Why this message? Do you think Muslims have    had a rough go of things recently? Are you trying to 'reach' out to those who have, and continue to    persecute Christians. Who burn churches, kill Christians in muslim countries. I'll tell you something  right now, North Americans are very ignorant of muslims and islam. They are far removed from   reality. Tell me something, why are churches not allowed in muslim countries. Until churches and    Christians can live and practice their faith in peace in muslim countries, muslims and islam have no  place in our society.

    Islam is not a religion, it's an ideology. Just like nazism and fascism. Mohammed was illiterate,  was into the occult ... promoted  'kill anyone who does not follow me', his mother bewitched him, and he    admitted to not performing any miracles. He was not raised from the dead. He never ascended into  heaven. He was a liar and so is the religion. Muslims in Canada are here to convert this Christian country into an islam state. Go back to school and read the history of Christianity, and the 7th century of islam  as warriors, aggressors and killers.

   That's what they are taught. The Quran is full of lies. Ex-muslims speak of the evils of islam.   And you have the self-righteousness to put that sign on your community centre marquee. Your organization  is an embarrssment to Christianity. As a matter of fact, your organization is a heresy. Why don't you drive  around and see how many mosques have marquees praising Christians and blessing them, etc. Never in a  millions years. I'm not suggesting to behave like them, but don't even bother giving them attention. That's what they want. They want North Americans to be afraid of them, so they will give into them, and the next minute, presto, Christianity is gone, and islam is in.

There was more (much more)... but I think that you get the picture.

He signed it with his initials  (although his name was quite evident in his email address)

What does one do with such an email?

I thought about the witty Cary Grant reply.... but didn’t know how to spell “bbbllllpphhhhhhh”

I thought about the declarative ex-girlfriend “SHUT UP!” response.

I considered ignoring it altogether.   I mean, he’s not listening to me... he’s not really looking for dialogue or the exchange of ideas..

But then, I thought about the criticism that that is often levelled at “moderate” Muslims who don’t speak up when the radicals and haters make outrageous statements.  We criticize them for not speaking out.. so, I thought that I needed to say something.  So I did.  Here is some of what I said: .

I am very sorry that you feel the way that you do and that our message on a "community" board to our neighbours hurt your feelings. I have a great many Muslim friends and acquaintances who regularly wish me Merry Christmas or Blessed Easter; and I feel that offering a similar greeting in return is the least that I can do as a courteous human being.   I am reminded of the many "regular" Muslims who gathered to protect church in Indonesia last Christmas when radicals were targeting them for vandalism... as well as countless more that I work with regularly,  feeding the hungry and clothing the naked.
It has never been my experience that peace has been found through ignorance or isolation and so I will always strive to move in the other direction - experience and inclusion - much like Jesus sitting, talking and eating with the Samaritan Woman at the well.  Samaritans and Jews were not much different in that time than Muslims and Christians today..  But you are in good company, as the disciples couldn't understand either why Jesus was taking time to talk to this woman, a sworn enemy of all that they stood for!
I will accept your views as informed, but please do not assume that I am ignorant or inexperienced....   (I bragged about my education here... it's an ego thing)
..... my biggest concern is that your faith in God is such that you think that God can be defeated by any kind of human action; that somehow, if we don't push Islam back, then the life and death of Jesus Christ will all be for not.  Surely that can't have been God's plan?  God is a little more dynamic than that and a much better planner... not one to fall victim to my whims or politics.

But, clearly we are far apart on my many things and not likely to agree  - so I wish you peace and the love of God.

Norm Seli

I could have been a little more harsh... but I wanted to at least leave the door open for discussion.  I didn’t go for the angry ex-girlfriend response... but I will confess to a little “Cary Grant” cheek.  I concluded my response with:

p.s. You should probably also know that we include Sikh's in our congregation; we perform same sex marriages and believe that the love of God is available to and evident in all people. 

And I meant it... 

Rambling about Riots and an Extreme Jesus

Just thinking out loud...

I do that

Often

Too often.

Like wondering what it would take to get some men to get pedicures before they wear sandals out in public... then, realizing that I’m thinking out loud and the man across from me (in sandals) is not amused.    Wondering if it’s possible for you to be more stupid... and then realizing that up until that point (when I started thinking out loud) I was offering you pastoral care

So, now I’m typing it.

Hoping that it will be quieter

  And that I’ll the chance to edit; re-edit; redact or simply erase  (none of which I’ll actually do...)

The rioting in England.

The rioting that many think could happen here.

The seemingly senseless destruction of property, or theft of things not truly needed.

If the looters were stealing food, I might have some sympathy... but not when they are stealing Hotspurs’ jerseys (although if you are going to steal... Tottenham is a fine team).

As a young man, I can remember being involved in vandalism.  Nothing very dramatic, some rocks through windows or a name spray painted in the part (NS <3 a variety of changing letters)., toilet-paper a car... or tree... or house...  But nothing more. 

So what’s different between most of my friends and me in our teens and the young people in London and environs?

I think that we were afraid to get caught.  Not afraid that we would be punished or go to jail.. but afraid that if we were caught, we risked out futures.  I can remember being invited to do something a little bigger; a little more risky than I’d ever done before and thinking , “But if I get caught... I won’t be able to be a lawyer..” (that was before I discovered that being a lawyer meant a bunch of years in school, lots of Latin and a thankless back-breaking internship... unlike Ministery...  wait a minute!).

I do clearly recall thinking that if I did this stupid thing, I would be risking my future... and my future was not something that I wanted to lose.

I suspect that many of these young rioters and looters, don’t have that feeling... in fact, they probably feel as is they have nothing to lose.

There is no place for them in the system.

They don’t matter.

They will never affect change.

They have little or nothing to which to look forward  (notice the snazzy grammar).

So, why not break a window and grab some runners and a Man U scarf?

There was a time that the church had something for these folks.

A time before we promised punishment for such sins.

A time before we promised “Pie in the sky when you  die” for those who had nothing in this life.

I’m thinking back to before Jesus became our Highschool Principal who would guide you and protect you from the bullies as long as you followed the rules.

I’m talking about the Jesus who put no investment in the system.

The Jesus who was counter-culture.

The one who said, “You’re right, you can’t trust the system; you can’t let the government decide for you... don’t let them tell you who’s good and who’s bad; and how you should treat the enemy..  resist them: Love your Enemy!  The “man” will tell you that if you work hard you will be blessed with money and success... God will tell you that the poor are blessed!”

These young people breaking windows and setting fires, have lost faith in the system and realize that if there is only the system, then they have no hope.  But Jesus lived a life of hope that was not in the system, but beyond it.  Jesus offered a faith, not in government or established authority, but in the power of people to affect and change each other (he called it “love”).

I wonder if we might be ready to risk - to starting preaching and sharing a counter-culture Jesus... not a Jesus who breaks windows and sets fires; but a Jesus who also rejects the status quo and the traditional authorities; who recognizes them as being bankrupt – but who does not give up hope, because hope is in God; hope is in this world as we dare to transform it with love.

I think that might be able to get Jesus out of that suit and suspenders and let him be Extreme, the way that he is in the Gospel.  I know we like our Jesus meek and mild, but he was more often extreme: Challenging people to throw the first stone (if they really believed that they had it all figured out and were above reproach); inviting people to live on the edge, willing to die so that they might truly live... and showing them, the all of this is meant to change the world...and in doing that, they would themselves be changed.  (kind of backward, I know... but that’s Jesus).

I know that I’m rambling... but I am longing for a faith that invites, empowers and assures me that I can change the world; that gives me hope for the future as it divests itself from the false promises of our televisions, retailers and governments.  I’m not saying I don’t like those things (hello, True Blood; good wine and a few politicians) – but I’m not investing my future and my hope in them.   I, like those looters and vandals, am ready for something more...  I just wish that we could find a way to share.

Just Horsing Around... (a touchy feely blog)

Pardon me while I wax horsey and poetic.

I first met Gary Convery  sometime in the mid 90s.   I was visiting Pleasure Valley, where Gary lived with about 60 horses, miles and miles of trails and an outdoor education and activity centre.  I was watching him with three horses in a round ring.  He just stood there in the middle as the horses ran around him, suddenly changing direction: clockwise; counter-clockwise; clockwise again..  I asked him, “Why do they keep changing direction like that?”

“I want them to...” was his enigmatic answer, shared with a smile that I would later come to recognize was the essence of this man. 

Gary truly was what you would call a “Horse Whisperer”.

Make no mistake, there was nothing “magic” about how he communicated with horses, but surely it was amazing.  That first day, when the horses seemed to almost dance around him, he appeared to be doing nothing – there was no gesticulating, whistling, calling, stomping... to my naive eye, it seemed that he must have been physically ordering them about...  

“Why do they keep changing direction like that?”

“I want them to...”

The want was significant.  I would learn that it was Gary’s very subtle body language that the horses were reading, a shift of weight, the flexing of some muscles...and the horses trusted Gary and wanted to do what he wanted to do, so they responded.

I would learn over the next 3 or 4 years that the gentlest and most subtle of gestures did more to communicate with a horse than any wild noisy powerful carrying on, ever would.

I would learn that horses can be coerced, but are better when invited.

I would learn how to let go of my aggression and predator nature in preparation for time with horses... a time of real companionship, working, exploring and delighting together with the horse.

I remember one night sitting in field with Gary among about 30 horses... most of them were lying down under the stairs... a few standing around the perimeter... and we sat together two men and many horses for probably an hour (although it felt like something between forever and a moment) and I experienced a peace that was so profound that it takes my breath away even now 15 years later.

I invited Gary to preach at my church on Sunday: To talk about his love and respect for horses, the way that he communicated with them, listened to them; spoke to them and how we could learn to do the same with human beings, too.  The people, especially the kids, were enthralled.  Gary would opine with me while out riding in the forest that horses were so Christ like... they were not like us and yet wanted to be with us; their nature as prey animals was completely at odds with our predator nature and yet they could teach us so much.  They live with us and then in the end, give up their lives for us and become food.    I thought that it was incomplete Christology.... but he was right about something: there is something deeply spiritual about horses.

I think, however, that the analogy is not with Christ as much as it is with the Holy Spirit.   The analogy is informative when I think of myself as the horse and the Spirit as the companion, rider or Gary.   Approaching me, the Spirit lets go of so much of the aggression that can associated with the Divine (Old Testament stories are to be left at the door upon entering....)  The Spirit is not like me, and yet bonds with me... leads me, not by coercion, but by subtle gesture (whisper, even) and invitation.

For my part, when I am aware of the Spirit and open to those subtle communications, I follow them and discover that I can do things beyond my perceived abilities and limitation; I adventure to places that I’d never have thought to go; see things that I’ve never seen before and experience a peace that I can only barely describe....

I discover in this Spirit, a respect and love for me and I often fail to have for myself...

I have found that every now and then, when I'm really attuned... I can change direction because the Spirit simply wants me to... and it's fun to dance with the Holy Spirit.

I appreciate that this is foolish rambling... and may not say anything to anybody... but when I think about my relationship to and with horses, I do recognize something about my relationship to the Holy Spirit and to God...  and I just felt like writing it down.

As should note that over time Gary and I drifted apart.  I got busy... a think we argued about something once and never got around to resolving it... and I wandered  away from him.  Gary had taught me that horses always travel in circles... you may have to stay put for a year, but eventually that horse will come back (unless he gets a better offer).  Well, I never got a better offer, but I wandered so far away that by the time I started to circle back, Gary was gone.  I ran into his daughter one day and discovered that Gary had died almost two years before...  So, I guess that I’ll have to make the best of all that he taught me; cherish that night in the pasture and the insights that he inspired.  

Moving On?

A church experience that some may relate to:  A search committee is struck in the local church: A collection of men and women; young and old; diverse and yet representative of the community.  The set about to find a minister for the congregation.  That’s the task.  And so they gather data about the community; assess the needs of the congregation; get the word out; scout prospective ministers; interview applicants and ultimately reccomend a candidate for the job.  In due course, a hire is made; a call is issued and the minister is installed.  Then, the committtee disbands, usually with some celebration and ritual.   (unless of course, I’m the minister called.... then, often the committee stays together examining what went wrong and continuing the search just in case, I don’t work out... but that’s another story for another time).  In short: They gather for a task, do the task and then disband – never to meet again as a Search Committee.

Early in the fall, I will likely make a trip to my parent’s cottage.  I will don old worn jeans, giagantic rubber boots, leather gloves and an old sweatshirt. I will then be part of the herculean effort known as “bringing the dock in”.  When it is done, I will not continue to wear the jeans, boots, gloves and old sweatshirt, opting to change into something more comfortable and presentable. (although I might keep the boots on... I am something of a fashion hound).  In short: When the job is done, I move on.

When you reach your destination, you get out of the car, you don’t sit behind the wheel and continue to rev the engine and turn the wheel.

When you are full, you stop eating. (at least, you should)

When you get married, you stop dating.  (at least, you really should)

When you run out of things to say, you stop talking (don’t you wish that people would?)

So, now I’m wondering about the Protestant Church. 

Think about the reasons for the Protestant Reformation, or your particular brand of Protestantism (for me, that would be the United Church of Canada).  Why did you come to be – what was the task? 

Well, off hand... As Protestants we were protesting the corruption of the Roman Catholic Church.   In the century that followed, that corruption was addressed. Done.

We wanted the mass/liturgy to be shared in the vernacular.  Done

We wanted to put Bibles into the hands of individuals; provide them a direct connection the God.  Done.

We wanted to teach literacy.  Done (mostly - there are a few elected officials that concern me)

We wanted to infect/effect and affect public policy with “Christian” ideals: Red Cross. YMCA. Welfare.  Medicare.  Foreign Aid. World Vision. United Nations. Christmas decorations in malls.  Done. Done. Done. Done. Done. Done. Done. Done.   (not joking about that last one, check out Martin Luther and his love of the Christmas Tree... often included in the Nativity Display to show that it was Protestant and not Roman Catholic.)   I could create a list that would leave you bleary eyed, but I think that a few examples make my point.

In the United Church of Canada... well, some wanted to stop the Roman Catholic Church from taking over the country (shhhh... we don’t talk about that... and it wasn’t official policy, but it sure helped to swing the vote in Parliament).  Well, I don’t think that Canada is about to become Roman Catholic any time soon:  Done. 

We wanted a national church that ran from coast to coast to coast:  Done.

So, we succeeded.

Why hasn’t the committee been disbanded?
Why are we still wearing the big rubber boots, stuffing our faces and dating?  (nice image, eh?)
Why are we still talking if we’ve run out of things to say??

There are those who would tell you that we’ve done out job... we’ve succeeded.  The world is a kinder place; the Kingdom more at hand thanks to our efforts...  Maybe it’s time to get back together with the Church in Rome or the Orthodox Church and talk about Jesus; maybe it’s time to stop all of this “religion” stuff and apply ourselves Social Justice or Political Action.

I’m not sure about that...

But I am pretty sure that we need to be talking about what we are doing as Christians, Protestants, United Church of Canada folk, lest we run the risk of sitting around in our big rubber boots looking silly.

Maybe we are meant to take the embrace and engage with the LGBT community...

Maybe we are meant to take up the cause of specific marginalized people...

Maybe we are meant to open doors for inter-faith dialogue...

Maybe we are meant to push for greater acceptance and understanding between diverse philosophies and theologies...

Maybe we are meant to be engaged in palliative care for a dying church..

Maybe we are meant to be midwives for a community yet to be born...

I don’t really know. 

But I am pretty sure that it’s time to be intentional about who we are as United Church of Canada Protestant Christians... or fold our committee, have a celebration and move on.

Church Funerals

A little while ago, it happened that a lovely woman from my community died.  Her children were decidedly against a “Church” funeral – wanting instead, a gathering of friends to tell stories and remember Mom.  They wanted it at the church, but they really didn’t want me – not because of me personally, but because they didn’t want a “Church” funeral.  I can’t say why – I don’t suspect that there was a dramatic break from church or that something “horrific” happened, I suspect that like many people of their generation, church just doesn’t speak to them and they had no wish to put up some false veneer on the celebration of their mother’s life.  I respect that.   I had no problem offering them the hospitality of our church and the use of the building... (listen to me, like it’s mine!   But they did call me... Anyway, I’m getting side-tracked... you have to stop me from doing that, it’s like that time back in grade 12 when Mr. Johnson said to me....  Sorry, I’m doing it again*)

So, to recap: Lady died. No funeral - memorial gathering; church not required, desired or squired (needed a rhyme).  The day before the gathering, they did invite me to say a prayer at the end, kind of “put a bow on it”  (their words, not mine). It was a kind gesture on their part, I suppose.  As I watched the event unfold, I became aware of a couple of things:

These people – well meaning, kind, intelligent and experienced – had no idea how we do things in the church.  I don’t mean that they were unfamiliar with our customs or dogma (I’m the one who’s unfamiliar with such things), No, these people really didn’t think that we knew how to host such a gathering.  The set it up like a corporate presentation, concerned with order of speakers and the readiness of mics and sound system.  They seemed to have no idea that we actually know how to do this... in form and presentation.  It neverr occurred to them that we might know something about pace, balance and the technical needs of a large gathering.  Which begs the questions, “What do they think that we do or know?”  They seem to have a sense that we are completely disconnected from the "real" world and have no way of connecting to them; their needs; their customs.

The other thing that struck me, was how dissatisfying the whole “gathering” was for me.  Not because it didn’t conform to my beliefs or “norms”; not because I wasn’t in charge or center stage  (well, sure, maybe a little... but I like to wear my big dress to parties!).  No, what was missing for me was sense of the eternal.   Whatever the expression of faith or faiths, I like such a gathering to begin with prayer of meditation -  or words from Holy Scripture- something to connect the deceased (presumably, Loved One) to the greater story of humanity and the Divine.   I believe in the core of my being that life is more that we see or define by a few years shared between birth and death... my religious/spiritual/faith practice is one of the ways that I find a vocabulary to speak of this feeling – but the feeling precedes my faith.   When we gather and fail to honour that connection, it feels to me like we’re simply telling stories about someone that we’ll never see again.  But when we make the connection – be it in my tradition or another; be it done smoothly and expertly or fumbled about like Kindergarten Valedictory address (I know, people actually have Kindergarten Graduation ceremonies!), we are assured  that those moments that we  shared with the deceased are part of something more; those values that he exhibited; those lessons she taught are all part of a larger connection.  In that, we’re reminded that we’re part of something more.... and we don’t feel alone.  In fact, we might even feel energized, inspired and connected. 

I don't think I'm alone in this.  I did do a prayer at the end of the memorial... about 90 seconds worth of connection... and I've rarely had so many people seek me out to tell me how much they appreciated my words.  Either, I'm that good or more likely, most of us hunger for a sense of the eternal and greater connection.  

Just sayin'.....

*That’s not a quote from Mr. Johnson, but rather my inner writer’s voice telling me to get on with it.  But I thwarted it – and managed to add a footnote!