2024.07.23 Who Are The Church? Lyn G. Brakeman, Spiritual Lemons, blog post

The Church is an institution. It is also a community gathered together to discover—over and over, again and again— Divinity/God in their midst. The Episcopal Church functions mostly within a hierarchy, not of values, but of roles with an underlying and powerful assumption that these roles are essentially ordained from above. It is a top-down model. 

Does it function well? Sometimes, yet never, in my experience, without occasional eruptions, thanks to differences that smolder within and do not get aired. The church body pulls itself into order through rituals: Word (what the Bible says in both testaments) and Sacramental rituals, chiefly Baptism with water, and Eucharist, a communion meal. We cleanse each member, as we would a newborn, and then we feed nourish/feed, just as we would with a newborn. We make sure it continues to thrive. Clergy, educated and ordained, serve as professional guides, along with traditions written in books, serving to maintain this upbringing process. 

Along the way there is need for much pastoral care, the fuel that keeps the Church alive. It comes from deep within the hearts of members of this community we call Church. Christians call it Love or Grace—a gift from God. Analogically, grace is like the wind that blows against sails so the boat will move along. It is our job to manage the sails. When sails are pulled too taut the boat capsizes. If sails flap loosely about, it goes nowhere.  Likewise, the Church does not function without givers and receivers, alive in the process, giving and receiving the gracious wind at once.   

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I am writing about the general lethargy in so many parishes right now. Are we boring? Bored? Is God a bore? Is Jesus the Christ no longer attractive, or it is our own lethargy that seems to be re-crucifying our one-time hero—over and over? 

I think the community we call church needs more verve—a shot of adrenal energy, perhaps a spiritual epipen. I know there are exceptions, often through music and relevant preaching that is not simply warm, fuzzy and lulling. 

I am also increasingly aware also that our Creator is much greater, vaster, larger than any one religion, or culture, or parish church for that matter. I stay Christian, because I'm in love with the gospel of Compassion towards all, preached and lived by Jesus, and expanded by the Spirit and its versatility—expansive enough to search everything, EVEN the depths of God! (I Cor. 2:10)  Simultaneously, I’m aware that God's "will" waits upon OUR willingness.  Have I lost faith enough to blame God for my own lethargy? 

In short, I am simply aware more than ever of human frailty AND the need for more collective shared zeal and effort towards this fragile earth our island home. So far all we do is make more WARS!!! 

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Am I being judgmental? Am I practicing a holier-than-thou spirituality? I think of Jesus asleep on the boat on the sea of Galilee as a storm whipped up and the disciples were scared. Of course they were. I have been in a boat on that sea of Galilee, and believe me, it can get wind-whipped and very rough, though it did not on that sunny day under the safe direction and timing of our pilgrimage guides. 

But let’s ingest this story with some emotional intelligence. One thing these disciples likely felt was terror. Were they also angry? Why isn’t this Messiah saving us? Isn’t that his messianic role? We can’t do this alone!

I wonder if this stormy self-awareness was the point at which these disciples themselves woke up?  Had they given up their God-given freedom to make good judgments, to make wise decisions for themselves, to manage the ship they knew well? Had they suddenly become judgmental, childishly dependent on Jesus, instead of picking up the ropes and saving the blooming ship? They were fishermen. They knew how to save this ship!   

Likewise the churches—all brands and practices, all religions, all spiritualities.  

 

2017.11.05 Paschal Symbol

What does this magnificent and majestic tall red sculpture look like to you?

It looks like a massive candle holder without a candle. It stands well over six feet tall and is rubber—not very romantic. [Colorful polymer cast rubber molded from stacked architectural elements, balusters, finials and monumental urns.] I was mesmerized.

The Boston-based sculptor Niho Kozuru, born in 1968 in Fukuoka, Japan, calls this piece Rising Column. I first saw it and photographed it at the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, Massachusett
As I contemplated this vibrant work of art near a window I saw light shining through it. I thought it was reflecting the sunlight, but read that the rubber substance is, in fact, translucent, and was chosen by the artist for that quality.  

Of course I projected Resurrection onto the rising column—the simple yet mysterious idea that God is unconditional Love that lives forever. We see resurrection when it shines through us. I don’t believe this just because I was taught to, or because it makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense.

I see resurrection when it shines through something common—nature’s bloom, new ideas, extraneous acts of kindness, children at play, transcendent music, art, and words of poetry and prose. For something to signal resurrection to me it must lift my soul in surprise recognition of Life even where it might not belong—like in death, dying, sin, suffering or evil.

On All Saint’s Day (November 1) Christians let resurrection light shine through the dead we no longer see but sense and through the embodied living we do see, touch, hear and applaud, mostly through infants whom we baptize into the life and death of Christ. Nonsensically, we do this all in one breath. On this day, other feast days, and through the fifty days of Easter we light a paschal (Easter) candle—a resurrection light.

Most paschal candles would be dwarfed by Kozuru’s Rising Column. Wouldn’t it be splendid to have a huge symbol of resurrection in our midst all the time?  We’d never forget resurrection life. We can’t afford such grandeur, of course, but we can’t afford to forget resurrection either.

It is my intuition that the Christian church has devoted some fifty years of energy making sure the Eucharist returns to the center of our Sunday liturgy. The altar and the lectern are the upfront focuses, well dressed and lit. Everyone looks to these. Less so the font. I'd like to visually beef up baptism and the font? 

Eucharist and Baptism are the two sacraments Jesus ordained when he was alive, according to New Testament  recollections. Baptism ushers one into the faith of Christ, and Eucharist provides regular nourishment and strength for being a Christian: practicing the faith OF Jesus—not at all the same as belief IN Jesus. When you practice the faith OF Jesus, light shines through you.

Wouldn’t it be fine to have a paschal candle stand more prominent—one so big and central you couldn’t miss it, lit or unlit?  So big you can’t forget you are Christian—sealed with the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever— and what a huge gift that is.

I wish many things all the time, and pray for at least half of them half the time. Some come true. 

When I saw this enormous sculpture my heart leapt and said, YES. Its towering red magnificence announced to me the presence of God. Just the sight of it knocked my socks off, jarred me into remembering my baptismal promises and how I will keep them—every day as my baptismal day. 

I need jarring. Therefore, my humble photo will now live on my home altar. It gives me hope.