Denying My Roots, it's Easier that way
I’m in the Twin Cities (or, for locals, just “the cities”) this weekend for a friend’s ordination. I’m still reflecting, though, on last week’s Celtic Christianity conference in Decatur. One curious thing struck me; I just can’t seem to shake.
My mother is Scottish. My Dad’s relatives, back a few generations, are Scotch-Irish. I’m a dual citizen (though the US doesn’t really recognize such things) in the US and UK. I’m a Christian, and my ancestry, most definitely, is Celtic. But I’ve never really claimed that heritage. Never thought about its implications. In fact, when I see a Celtic knot, or hear of Celtic spirituality, or see a pretty Celtic cross, my first reaction is generally to sluff it off as hokey, or ungrounded, or just too fro-froey. On the one hand, this cements my Scottishness — I’ll explain why in a second — but it also denies my celtic heritage.
John Bell is fond of saying that the previous Church of Scotland hymnal had something like 50 German tunes, 40 English tunes, 30 Welsh tunes, 20 Irish tunes, and 8 Scottish tunes. There’s something deep in the Scottish psyche that embraces self-deprecation, selling one’s self short, and denial of the good in one’s life — call it broken Calvinism if you like, but it’s true.
I hadn’t realized it, but maybe I’ve picked up on more of that sort of mindset than I thought. I mean, I was African-American or Korean-American or whatever, with one parent from another country, it’d be pretty strange for me to have a negative first reaction to the Christian heritage of my parent’s home. I know this is all even more confused with my white male privilege and the effects of not needing to claim another identity because mine is powerful enough on its face, but still, is it not strange that I identify more with John Calvin than the Celtic Christians who preceded him? That I know more about the tunes of Martin Luther’s day than the songs of my mother’s homeland? What, in that Celtic Christian heritage, am I denying because it’s easier, or more comfortable to claim my powerful white male Americaness, and what might feed my soul and help me live a more faithful life with all God’s creation?
image by Simaron
Not a Newsletter Column
This is not a newsletter column. Or, at least, not like I hope to write them one day. My newsletter columns will have a clear beginning, middle, and end — like the old ham sandwich my elementary teachers used to say exemplified a good essay. This post, on the other hand, is more of a simple spew. A peanut butter and banana open-faced snack of 
sorts.
For the past few days I’ve been meeting with a group of seven young pastors, all graduates of Columbia Seminary (except myself who’ll graduate in May, God willing) most of whom have begun their first calls in a church. It’s a support group, an accountability group, a place to be real and be seen by friends in ways only friends can see. It’s been lovely. Really, really, good.
One of the things we’ve practiced this week is sharing. Each of us has talked for a good hour on how we’re doing: professionally, vocationally, personally, spiritually, relationshipally, heathily, you get the idea. While a person is sharing, we don’t interrupt. It’s very strange to speak to friends for 45 minutes-plus without interruption. I think for me, though, it’s become a sort of spiritual discipline. Listening. Listening to this friend’s testimony. Listening for how God is at work in my friend’s life. Listening as a spiritual discipline. How often can we listen for 45 minutes plus without worrying about ourselves, or how a lecture will be graded, or what was the exact quote? Listening for an hour for one another, for the betterment, support, accountability of a friend is a different sort of practice altogether. You should try it.
Now we’re attending the Celtic Christian Spirituality Conference at Columbia Seminary led by John Bell, J. Phillip Newell, and Cynthia Matyi. The first day went very well, and I’m looking forward to today. Since “celtic spirituality” is such an amorphous topic, it’s easy to over-sentimentalize it, or simply read into it what we think is lacking with contemporary theology and spirituality. But even with that lens in mind, I really appreciated the first day of presentations. John and Philip, who spoke yesterday, weren’t about sentimentalizing, but pushing contemporary Christians to a more faithful practice of their faith.
A few gems:
- From Philip Newell, about wellness, “The extraordinary thing is we somehow started thinking that there was some way for us to be well and whole without the wellness of the other, of all. We cannot be well if our family is unwell. We cannot be whole if our nation acts out of falsehood. We cannot be whole if the earth is unhealthy.”
- From Julian of Norwich, “We are not made by God — then somehow set free from God — but we are made of God. We are fashioned not from a distant creator, but God is our mother, our womb.”
- From John Bell reflecting on Psalm 148, “The world, natural creation, is our co-worshiper. So care for the earth is about allowing it to praise its maker, to sing a liturgy which we cannot understand.”
I’m busy. More later. Happy days.
A Romantic View
For some reason this college essay popped into my mind recently. Here it is, slightly revised (and needing more).
Finally it’s empty. I walk by often. Usually, it is already taken, rudely filled with the backpack and books of another student. Nearly every time I pass, a new thief reclines in my chair and enjoys my table. But not this time. Finally, my study spot is free, and so, relishing the glorious moment, I sit down.
Surely this seat reigns as the best study place on campus. Three large windows send countless rays of natural light cascading onto the generous table. In the library, a place of cold dark shelves, the table is an oasis of light. Perhaps, its best quality is the view. Sitting there, one can glimpse into the outside world and look out over the snow-covered track, past Carleton’s lofty tower, to the empty fields of Rice County. And so, I take off my bag, unzip my jacket, and sit down to study. Peace. My sacred table. Life is quiet and good.
“Hey Adam,” shrieks a voice from behind, “have you seen Ashlee?”
“No, no I haven’t” I respond with reserved disgust.
“Oh, because it’s such a beautiful day that some of us are walking into town for supper. We can’t find her to tell her though, so if you see her, tell her I’m looking for her,” the voice harps on.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, “I’ll tell her.” We smile. I return to my reading, but, my focus is gone. It is a beautiful day and I’m stuck here. All of a sudden my spot, the most splendid study spot of them all, is tainted. I flip through my book, perturbed with the world.
Then, like a snowball launched from behind, it hits me. Reading my Romantic poets, recalling the Romantic artists of yesterday’s lecture, I realize, I, too, am I Romantic of sorts if not for the incontrovertible reason that I love this table: the most nature-friendly spot in the entire library. The natural light, the glorious view, at this table high in the library’s grasp, nature shows her hand.
Sadly, society these days seems to forget what’s outside the window. One might think it’s hard to forget nature during winter in Minnesota. After all, it’s hard not to notice when one’s nose hairs freeze. But what do we do but notice it’s damn cold and run from one heated building to another? I spend more time each day in the bathroom than I do outdoors. One could blame it on Minnesota winters, but I think it’s more than that. Look at society’s top jobs: doctor, lawyer, businessperson. Have you ever been diagnosed outside or given a deposition on the law office porch? Every day the businessperson steps from an insulated house to a covered garage and into a SUV with dual-climate controlled ventilation. Perhaps the worker has a VIP spot at the front door, requiring as little time as possible outside. The top workers in our society never see the light of day. Society tells us to trap ourselves inside and avoid nature’s unruliness.
We use umbrellas to shield us from the rain. That’s good, though, because we melt if we get wet, right? Or treadmills, whose idea was that? Why should I run on four feet of rotating rubber when there’s a perfectly good (and long) trail outside? Ever wonder why it’s such a treat to have class outside? It’s because we’re never out there. We forgot what it’s like. We’re too sophisticated for nature.
Maybe my study spot isn’t so good after all. Maybe, since it’s a pretty day, I can get a blanket and find a bench outside. Maybe I’ll take a long walk with a friend-wouldn’t that be romantic.
image by Lies Meirlaen
Technology and the Next Hymnal
Sing to the Lord a New Song:
Technology and the Next Hymnal
Technology opens doors in the church and in the world. One tweet on Twitter can connect pastors in ways unimaginable when my Dad was in seminary (sorry, Pops). Blog communities bring new and exciting — though imperfect — ways to discuss Christ and culture. What self-respecting youth group these days doesn’t have a Facebook group? That said, I’m also aware of the growing digital divide in our congregations. Now, when we think of our diversity, we must also remember the diversity of those with email and those without, those with a high-speed internet connection and those without a computer. Ahh, the challenges of ministry in 2009.
The Presbyterian Hymnal Committee, a group formed last year, is in the initial stages of developing the next Presbyterian hymnal. The next hymnal will include songs composed since 1990 (the publication date of the blue hymnal) and will seek to honor our rich heritage. Perhaps it will bring back some from the red book, but it’ll also put into print some of the new places that God is leading us. For all your next hymnal questions check out http://presbyterianhymnal.org , and remember the committee is just beginning its work.
Especially in these early stages, though, I want to take to the committee some ways that new technology might best be used to sing a new song unto the Lord. Copyright law is tricky enough with printed materials, let alone when concerned with electronic formats, but I want to think broadly at this stage.
(On a parenthetical note, let’s not forget the amazing “technology” of the bound paper printed book. What a remarkable, durable, cheap, easy-to-use, technology it is — and will be for years to come. The next hymnal will certainly be in book format, but why stop there?)
The committee can make no promises — we have budget considerations like everybody else — but we will consider, in good faith, how God may be calling the church to use technology in its congregational song and worship planning. That’s where you come in.
Comment away. What tech ideas — hymnal/singing/worship related — would be handy in your congregation? How do you use the hymnal for worship planning and how could that be bettered with new technology? Do you use existing online worship resources? What, technologically speaking, should the hymnal committee consider?
Pop a comment on this post, or email me at adamjcopeland at gmail dot com. Peace.
Praying (or not?), "O God of Our Many Understandings"
image by Dez Pain
Thanks to Mary and TellingSecrets, I paste below Bishop Gene Robinson’s prayer at the inaugural festivities yesterday. He did, as he said, and prayed to the “God of our many understandings.” I respect Bishop Robinson for many a personal trait and a theological stance, but I differ with him on this decision.
From my point of view, Bishop Robinson, an Episcopal priest, was asked to pray because of who is he is: a religious figure, yes, but one particularly of the Episcopal tradition. This tradition brings with it certain theological claims, like, um, “Jesus is Lord” and “God is Triune.” It’s a tradition that leaves plenty of room for the Spirit to reveal to us more knowledge of God and God’s work in the world, but it’s a tradition that has clear creeds, makes clear claims about God who we understand in a particular way.
I’m from the school of thought — and, I confess, at a seminary that tends to lean towards this school — that inter-religious dialogue is cheapened when we try to make God into a common denominator like “God of our many understandings.” Instead, coming to the inter-religious table knowing much about your own faith, making clear claims about the God in whom you believe, I think, leads to richer, deeper, more honest conversation. Instead of some fluffy unknown unrevealed God, we can address the God we know and understand, tell others about that God, and our faith may be deepened and our knowledge expanded by the conversations that follow.
On his blog, Robinson writes, “I have received a lot of critical email since announcing that my prayer would not be overtly or aggressively Christian, as most of the inaugural prayers of the last 30 years have been. My plan is to address this prayer to the “God of our many understandings,” acknowledging that no one Christian denomination nor no one faith tradition knows all there is to know about God. Each of us is privy to a piece of God, as experienced in our faith tradition. My hope is to pray a prayer that ALL people of faith can join me in.”
What if my “understanding of God” is that God only helps those who help themselves, or hates people with blue eyes, or damns those who fail to recycle? Did Bishop Robinson lead me in prayer too? I guess so.
I don’t understand how one can have such an open-ended address to God, and then pray for so many particular things. It seems to me that if one is consistent about such a stance one would need to just leave a time of silence for everyone to lift up their own particular understandings of what the prayer should include. As soon as you start to make everyone happy in a prayer, or invite all to join, you’re surely leaving out others by the very nature of that invitation in the first place.
I’ll put the full prayer up below. I’ll definitely give him props for the line, “our new president is a human being, not a messiah” and the two-fold nature of the prayer for big-picture justice and then for Obama in particular is nice. Inter-religious stuff is HARD to do with integrity and I’m totally not looking forward to my first experiences. But, when I have them, I’ll bring to the table who I am, what I believe in, and testify to the God in whom I trust.
Bishop Gene Robinson’s Prayer:
O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will…Bless us with tears – for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.
Bless us with anger – at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.
Bless us with discomfort – at the easy, simplistic “answers” we’ve preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.
Bless us with patience – and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be “fixed” anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.
Bless us with humility – open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.
Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance – replacing it with a genuine respect and warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.
Bless us with compassion and generosity – remembering that every religion’s God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world.
And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.
Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln’s reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy’s ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King’s dream of a nation for ALL the people.
Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.
Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.
Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.
Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.
Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters’ childhoods.
And please, God, keep him safe. We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we’re asking FAR too much of this one. We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe. Hold him in the palm of your hand – that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.
AMEN.
The Greening of Detroit
The 2009 North American International Auto Show took place this week in Detroit (yeah, I know, strange name — at least baseball doesn’t call it the North American World Series). The big story out of the show, besides the fact that the Detroit three are in pretty dire financial straits and the good-looking new Taurus, was all the green cars. Different companies are betting on different technologies — hydrogen, fuel cell, electric, plug-in, etc. etc. I have no idea what the car of 2019 will look like, but I hope to goodness it doesn’t run on straight gas, and it doesn’t get 20 mpg.
What kept coming up in coverage of the show, though, was the current cost of gas and how that may drive consumers back to buying big gas-guzzlers. It’s no secret that those in the upper echelons of Detroit wish gas prices were higher, as do I. Apparently Americans need incentives to buy cars that won’t destroy the earth we all enjoy.
I guess that’s what’s sticking with me. The story out of the show was never about the ethics of our car choices, never about the facts of climate change. There’s an assumption Americans will buy the biggest cars they can unless gas goes up — why not the other way round, O “Christian” nation of ours? Why can’t we work to change that assumption and make small cars cool? Why can’t we interview the many folks who spend the extra money to buy a hybrid not because it will save them gas money, but because their morals won’t allow anything less. Why can’t gas mileage be determinative because it’s important for our world, our children, our God, not just out wallets?
Book Review (or rave, really): Sherman Alexie's "Ten Little Indians"
Sherman Alexie is an amazing writer. Read his books. I just finished my first of his, Ten Little Indians, a collections of short stories, and it was probably my most enjoyable read since East of Eden.
Alexie’s prose is eerily simple. His language is direct and careful without being conspicuous, and it’s completely 
without glamor. Alexie lets the stories speak for themselves — and speak they do.
A brilliant aspiring Native American politician sees his career ruined after a racist remark on a basketball court. A young writer journeys to meet the only published poet of her tribe, but finds he’s not what she expected. A couple’s perfect love is split in two by an easy lie, and worked back together over a messy lifetime. A nobody’s grief over his parent’s death finds its life (and death) on the basketball court.
At times, reading these stories I really did laugh out loud. In others, I feared to turn the page on account of sadness.
Perhaps my favorite, “Do You Know Where I Am?” would work as a story to begin pre-marital counseling. It’s a tough tale, a graphic tale in some places –Alexie is clearly not writing for prim and proper Presbyterians– but, in twenty pages, it gets at the challenges and joys, harsh realities and bubbling emotions of a lasting relationship in remarkable ways. Its a story about trust, love, sex, brutality, forgiveness, families, and identity all at the same time. Every couple should read it and discuss it before getting married.
Clearly, I love this guy. Anyone else read him much? If not, order a copy of Ten Little Indians immediately, and I’ll post on more when I read it.
Connect Online
