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Three good books

Lit by Mary Karr — I hadn’t read any of Karr’s previous memoirs, but after reading Lit her two previous books have jumped to the top of my list (on Springpad and Amazon). Karr is a splendid writer, but it’s her life story that amazes most. The challenges she’s endured are astounded for sheltered me — abuse, alcoholism, wacko parents, destructive relationships (and that’s before college). The jacket calls it “learning to write by learning to live;” an apt description. I totally recommend Karr’s unvarnished (and at times quite funny) third memoir to anyone who’s up for a heart-wrenching story well told.

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen — Yeah, ok, I was a skeptic on this one. I mean, it was just getting so much press a few months ago. Franzen was on every talk show on earth, even before he made up with Oprah.  And I’m always uneasy about a book being read by more than three people on the same airplane. But, thanks to my kind Pittsburgh friend Susan Rothenberg (thanks Susan!), I was sent a copy of Freedom so I could free my skeptical conscience from the Freedom media frenzy. And, yes, it’s a damn good book.

Character development: A. Gripping story: B+. Believable characters: A-. Epic cynicism: B+. Holds your attention for 500+ pages: A. Amazingly skilled look at contemporary America’s beautiful and contradictory freedom: A+. You should read it, even if it’s just to be like everyone else.

Feed by M.T. Anderson — My friend Kristin recommended this Young Adult novel  and I ate it up for it’s dystopian look at cyberculture (plus, it’s a stellar YA story).  Set some time in the future, the book imagines a “feed” that is implanted into wealthy people’s brains that connects them constantly to an Internet-like stream of constant contact and commerce. The feed is both exhilarating in its helpfulness and paralyzing in its ubiquity. I wasn’t drawn in the by the characters, really, but the treatment of technology, choice, freedom, free market, environmental disaster, and teen relationships is pretty amazing. This book is a must read for Internet and social media advocates as it pushes back vehemently on an overly utopian view of technology. If the “feed” is the direction in which the Internet is headed, we should be very scared.

Three good books. Now what should I (and readers of this blog) read next?  Comment away…

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Does the manger matter?

The Bible gets four shots to tell Jesus’ birth — well, four gospel writers plus Paul and the other epistle writers, so at least four. But the manger only appears in Luke. For many current-day Christians, the Christmas story would be incomplete without the manger scene: little baby Jesus wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger. But does this, the crowning scene of many a church Christmas Pageant, really matter?

Well, yes and no. Does the manger matter to Matthew, Mark, or John? No, not one bit. Does the manger matter to Paul? Nope. In fact, Paul doesn’t even seem to know about the whole virgin birth story, let alone the manger — at least he never mentions it. And even for Luke, is the manger an irreplaceable aspect of the birth story that, without the manger, Jesus’ birth would lose all its meaning? I think not. But it matters; the manger matters to Luke at least.

Luke is the gospel in which stories of the poor and the outcast and women get a special airing. Luke seems to be all about those on the margins, and Luke tells the story of Jesus with that hue. So yeah, the manger matters, for it puts the scandal of Jesus, the craziness of the gospel, in a tidy (or smelly?) message.

Was little baby Jesus actually laid in a manger — I don’t know, it seems like a very strange and dirty place to put a newborn if you ask me. I’m not a parent, but I’d say Mary and Joseph would have to be crazy-tired or plain silly to put a newborn in a feeding trough. But the story of Jesus being laid in a manger speaks to the truth of the gospel. Here’s how:

For one, the manger as metaphor reminds us of Jesus as the bread of life. Jesus is both food for our spiritual journey, and food that physically nourishes us in the bread and wine of communion. Little baby Jesus in the food trough can point to big guy Jesus feeding the 5,000 and dining after the resurrection with the disciples at Emmaus.

Second, the manger scene sets up the story of Jesus as one of scandal. The son of God lies helpless in a food trough for dirty animals — scandal! What sort of God would figure that as a good idea? Only a crazy-wild-scandalous one that upends all our expectations of justice, love, and grace. Scandalous manger.

Finally, the manger scene, for me at least, sets Jesus as his own person — a poor one, yes, but his own man aside from his parents’ influence. I’m not saying Jesus’ is uninfluenced by his parents or culture, no way. But I’m picturing the birth scene as a comic strip with a final panel of an up-close baby Jesus in the manger. Mary and Joseph holding Jesus aren’t the point; Jesus himself, set apart, poor, lowly, weak, vulnerable, even smelly — Jesus is the focal point of the story, so he hangs out by himself in the manger.

But that’s just me. What do you think? Could you do Christmas without little baby Jesus in a food trough? Sure, leaving it out would ruin the pageant, but does the manger really matter to you?

image by Scott Wilcoxson

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Monday Mind Dump

  • North Point Community Church in Atlanta’s iBand is pretty, well, disturbingly fantastic.Check out Carol of the Bells and Feliz Navidad. Crazy music, all done on iPads and iPhones.  (no word yet on iPeace or iJustice)
  • So the Metrodome in Minneapolis collapsed yesterday under the weight of 17 inches of snow.  The Vikings’ Sunday game was postponed and moved to Detroit, but I say Fargo would have been even better.  The Fargodome sits 25,000 and it surely could have been at capacity.  Also would have been a smart move by the owners to emphasize the importance of the franchise to the entire region.
  • I’m increasingly disgusted at the inability of the Senate to pass a law banning the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell law in the military.  While McCain’s ever-changing position is maddening, what’s even more annoying is that Sen. Lieberman promises the votes are their to repeal it if it gets sufficient floor time.
  • While I’m on politics, I would so love to see the DREAM Act passed.
  • You know you go to Starbucks a lot when you get a Starbucks handwritten Christmas card from an employee with coupons for free drinks.
  • One more use for my HTC Droid Incredible phone: recording the Confirmation students introducing a scripture lesson before reading it, then playing the recording during worship in place of reading the scripture lesson.
  • I’m pretty certain that, in heaven, everyone will be wearing SmartWool socks.

image by Alfred Borchard

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Sermon: Mary’s Song and Ours

First Presbyterian Church of Hallock, Minn.

Dec 12, 2010

Magnificat

Luke 1:46-55

Sometimes I wonder if I perhaps use too many illustrations from hymns in my sermons.  Sometimes, I think to myself, “Oh, there’s this great song that makes that point clear, but can I use it since I used another last week, and the week before?”  Well, maybe I do use too many hymns in my sermons, but today I get a free pass.  Today’s sermon is all about a song, but it’s not of my choosing.  It’s Mary’s song, the “Magnificat.”

I grew up singing in children’s choirs, and every Advent we’d sing a different setting of the Magnificat at a choral evensong service.  It was one my favorite services of the year — almost all of it was sung, and there’s just something about evening services in winter that brings a holy feel to worship. … Continue Reading

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A Twitter Theology

A Twitter skeptic and a Twitter user (the former of whom we’ll call “Skeptic,” the latter a “Tweep” ) sit drinking delicious locally-brewed adult beverages. The Skeptic asks the Tweep, “I think Twitter is a bunch of hooey. You’re on Twitter all the time, explain to me why I shouldn’t write it off as completely tangential to the Church.”

The Tweep responds, “No problem.  In fact, I’ll take you one step further and explain how Twitter helps me understand the Church and live more faithfully, but first, you have to help me out.  Can you explain to me what you understand “the Church” to be in the first place?”

Skeptic: No problem, the Church, as you surely know is the “body of Christ” as we find described often in the New Testament. Some form of this phrase is in Romans, 1 Corinthians, Ephesians, and Hebrews. By using the “body of Christ” phrase, I don’t think Paul means the Church is Christ’s body in a literal sense. Rather, he was using the metaphor of a body to explain the connections in the Church. Of course, that’s not all, scripture also refers to the Church as the people of God, as the new creation, and lots of other images, actually.

Tweep: Ok, sounds good so far. But, what does that mean? Or to put it another way: how do you tend to think about the Church? I mean, do you think “body” when you think “Church” or what?

Skeptic [taking a sip of bubbly beverage]: Hmmm, let’s see. First, I guess, using the Church as the body of Christ image, I think of people (like you and me) as the body, and Christ as the head of the body. Part of that has to do with connection between people, I suppose.  Of course, it’s not just you and me who are connected, but all believers.  Connection in the Church is pretty awesome, actually: understanding that the grace in Christ makes us one with another, even and especially those with whom we disagree.  Of course, we don’t make the connections real, God does it, but through the power of the Spirit we can get a glimpse at how we are connected in Christ.

But other than people, (or more specifically than people) when I think of the Church, I also think of people’s God-given gifts. Through the Spirit, people are bound together and gifted with different abilities and ways to serve God (I’m thinking of 1 Corinthians 12, I suppose).

Tweep: Let me stop you there for a second. Nice, yeah. You’re getting at how the Body of Christ, the Church, is not in one physical location. In fact, one of the main points in this type of theology is that the Church is not stuck in one place or associated with one building, but is where the people are. Jesus said, “wherever two or three are gathered in my name, I am there with them.” But then there’s this timeless sense as well, right? I mean, the Church isn’t just what exists in 2010, right?

Skeptic: Totally, good point. Martin Luther talked about the church militant and the church triumphant to distinguish between saints presently alive serving God on earth and those who have died. But believers both alive and dead are part of the church. It gets into that timeless nature of belief, that we are connected, by faith, to believers in every time and place. And, more recent theologians have even emphasized the fact that the Spirit can and does move outside the Church as well.

But enough about the Church, what does this all have to do with Twitter?

Tweep: Right, ok, good point. Here it goes: thinking of the Twitter community really helps me visualize thinking about the Church. First, there’s these weird connections all over the place through the power of this crazy-ether-cyberspace-thing that I don’t understand but trust to work (most of the time, at least). For instance, on Twitter I follow people I’ve never met and probably never will meet. I don’t know what they look like beyond their little profile picture. I don’t know their story, but I know something of them because of Twitter. And that something, that connection, helps me appreciate them and causes me to consider life more fully.

Take @jameskimlcop. I follow James on Twitter. His info says he’s a pastor in Washington state, but I’ve never met the guy. But I have prayed for him. I’ve rejoiced with him and mourned with him, reflected with him and been enriched by his contributions through his tweets. Is he the pastor to whom I’d go if I had a life crisis? No, but I do put out prayer requests on Twitter and feel supported by that community.

And, not unlike Paul speaks of the many gifts of the Spirit, Twitter helps me to hear and appreciate and consider the multitude of God-given gifts (a much wider range than I’d know of or enjoy without Twitter).

Skeptic: Ok, but I mean, that’s not the Church, that’s Twitter. You’re not saying the Twitter community is the body of Christ are you?

Tweep: No I’m not, but I’m saying the Twitter community is one way — and a very helpful and cool way — of experiencing, showing, and living out those connections of our Church-connected theology.

And it works with the time thing, too. Sure, Twitter works within our cultural notions of time, but watching a Twitter feed also reminds me that not everyone is in my time zone or life stage or weather patterns. It may seem elementary, but for me, see a tweet from a friend in South Africa going to a warm beach at Christmas right below a tweet from someone in Idaho digging out from a snow storm reminds me that my life is not the center of the world. And, because the Twitter stream flows at all times and all places even when I don’t check on it, it’s a helpful push to think beyond myself. Watching my Twitter feed gives me what some have called a “peripheral awareness.”  And this awareness of others, for me as a religious and spiritual person, strengthens and deepens my faith journey.

Skeptic: Dude, you’re starting to sound a little too new-agey for me. I mean, you don’t believe in Twitter do you? Sounds like it’s become an idol in your life.

Tweep: No way, man. I think of it this way. We don’t actually believe in the Church in the first place.  Or maybe a better way of putting it is saying, “In the Church, I believe.” The point is that we believe in God, and we do that while in the Church.

Same thing applies to Twitter, I guess. I don’t believe in Twitter, no way. But, while I’m in the Twitter community, I believe in God.

Skeptic: Ok, that makes sense. Glad you didn’t go off the deep end on me here. Sure, I mean, there’s some similarities between a theological conception of Church and Twitter, but it still doesn’t exactly redeem it for me. Is that all you got?

Tweep: Well there’s this big theologian guy Dan Migliore who’s written about different models of the Church and several of them apply really well to Twitter too. Migliore talks about the Church as an “intimate community of the Spirit” — Twitter can totally be majorly intimate in its connections. Also, Migliore says the church is a “herald of good news” — Twitter is all over sharing news and information, and a lot more is good than you’d think. And Migliore also says the mystery of the church can’t ever be described in one image or model (that’s part of the reason the Bible has so many different images for Church). So, I guess I’m saying, for me at least, Twitter is one more model or image that helps me understand the Church. If you don’t buy it, fine, but I think the Spirit can work online just as well as it can old school.

Skeptic: No doubt about that, at least. Thanks for the chat, I’ll think on it some more, that’s for sure. Maybe you can ask your Twitter friends to pray for me.

Tweep: Will do, and better yet, I’ll write up this conversation and put in on Twitter, so we’ll get some feedback from the Church, I mean, the Twitter community. :) Will you drink to that?

Skeptic: Bottoms up!

image by Marc Smith

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Mary’s Song, Magnificat

I’m off this morning to my weekly text study group with local pastors. Since Sunday’s lectionary texts include Mary’s Magnificat, Luke 1:47-55, as the canticle I thought I’d repost this reflection on Mary’s powerful song. Are you preaching from Luke 1 this Sunday? How so?

The God Who

The God who looks with favor on the lowly, a homeless man leaving a warm night
shelter only to find a steady winter rain falling on the ambivalent city,

the God who has done great things, sending angels with pregnant messages
to a withered woman, and later a message of “great joy” to an unwed teenager fearing for her life,

the God who gives mercy from generation to generation, forgiving our sins too
numerous to count, blotting out our offenses no matter how heinous or small,

the God who shows strength with God’s arm, in the making of creation, in the
sweet smell of the bread baked for communion, in the powerlessness of the shameful cross,

the God who scatters the proud in the imagination of their hearts, throwing down
politicians working for personal gain, shattering our pretense of humility, calling us to boast in the Lord alone,

the God who lifted up the lowly, a tiny shepherd who slay the Philistine giant with
a strong faith and a love of neighbor, a young son wearing a torn fabled coat of many colors saves the nation from perishing,

the God who will feed the hungry at the heavenly banquet—filet mignon,
enormous baked potato, no damn broccoli, open bar, no hangovers—

the God who did not abandon Israel through the prophets and the patriarchs,
Miriam’s joyful song, Amos’s harsh words, and David’s illicit sex,

the God of whom Mary sang—Magnificat—of whom Hannah sang before, the
God of you and me is in this place. Look, listen, touch, taste, and smell, for God is here. Amen.

-Adam J. Copeland

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Sermon: Going Forward, Looking Back

First Presbyterian Church of Hallock, Minn.

Dec 5, 2010

Going Forward, Looking Back

Matt 3:1-12

The first year Megan took a vehicle to college, a big snowstorm rolled in at the end of her fall semester’s final exams.  In a normal situation, Megan probably would have stayed put, but she wanted to get home for Christmas, so she made the trip from a bit south of the cities to Adams, North Dakota.  It was slow going, but the big highways were mostly clear.  After many hours of careful driving, she finally arrived in Adams, but the snow was still falling and by this time it was dark, and the snow was piling up.  No matter how much she wanted to be home, there was no way her little car was going to make it over the eight miles of gravel road that stood between town and her parents’ farm.  She figured she’d spend the night at her grandmother’s place in town, until that is, a big snow plow pulled up behind her and honked its horn.  Megan’s Dad had been out working on the roads all day.  He motioned to Megan “follow me,” put the huge truck in gear, got the plow set, and headed out to the farm.  Megan’s little car made it just fine with Terry plowing the path in front of her.

In today’s gospel lesson, Matthew writes that John the Baptist appears in the wilderness with the message: “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.”  I’m pretty sure John didn’t have a snow plow in mind when he said that — he was actually quoting a passage from Isaiah — but the image is helpful, I think.  John was all about preparing, making things ready, plowing a path for Jesus. … Continue Reading

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