Just as Holy Week and Easter began in a whirlwind of activity, so it has continued. In a period that began with an exhilarating youth mission trip to Washington, D.C. This Easter season has held both sorrow and joy, promise and predicament. All of these movements have been held fast in God's solemn promise to renew the whole creation by the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
We have walked alongside beloved friends as they approached death and commended them into God's hands. We have celebrated with triumph the joys of Easter with bright colors and resounding song. We have watched the earth turn to the flush fullness of Spring.
During the week of May 9th, I was privileged to attend the National Workshop on Christian Unity in Pittsburgh, PA. I went as the bishop's ecumenical representative for the New England Synod, and as a member of the board of the Lutheran Ecumenical Representatives Network. Signs of new life in the ecumenical movement are all around. From the Newfire movement that brings young adult ecumenists together, to the publication of a statement by the workshop urging the member churches to gather next year in Oklahoma City to witness to God's ongoing work in bringing Christians to full, visible unity, signs of Spring abounded.
On May 15th, after concluding a period of study fourteen young people came to the Lord's table and partook in the Sacrament of the Altar for the first time. It was a day of bright celebration. Just one day earlier, the promise of renewal came in the form of a special ceremony at WPI. After extended negotiations several seniors were allowed to enter the commencement ceremony late as a protest against the awarding of Exxon-Mobil CEO Rex Tillerson with an honorary doctorate. Following the main ceremony, approximately one hundred and fifty students, parents, and concerned citizens stayed for a counterpoint presentation. It was my honor to serve as master of ceremonies for that event, and to introduce the speaker, Richard Heinberg, the senior fellow in residence at the Post-Carbon Institute. (http://www.postcarbon.org) In the spirit of Easter, I charged the graduates with developing an economy of redemption, where God's renewing work of transforming the whole creation is reflected in our refusal to turn any plant, any animal, any community and any person into trash to be thrown away. What a blessing these signs of renewal have been!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Thoughts on Witness and Prophetic Leadership
My great grandparents could never have imagined the kind of world in which I live. They could have never imagined the kind of ministry I would serve in. From the seeming miracle of liturgies streaming through a web browser to church meetings run around the glow of an HD projector to the stream of church news coming through text messages, nothing is as it was. How could the generation who bore their children in the midst of the most horrific war the globe had ever seen, imagine the life of people living at the turn of the following century?
However, it occurs to me that the same unpredictability existed in the lives of their own children, my grandparents. Could those who were infants during the Depression of 1893 imagine the deprivation of the Great Depression? Could the generation that witnessed the so-called Great War have foreseen the devastation of the Second World War? Could my great grandmother have possibly considered that her daughter would work outside the home for much of her adult life, let alone that her last assignment would be to inspect machine parts for a space-plane called “Columbia”?
Since the 1950’s the warning bells first sounded by M. King Hubbert’s theory of peak oil, echoing in the 1960’s through Rachael Carson’s Silent Spring and amplified by the oil embargo of the 1970’s, there have been voices crying out for future generations of unborn humanity. Why have we been so slow to respond? I think part of the problem is the long horizon we have been asked to consider. Warnings about the lives of our grandchildren or great-grandchildren are so far from our lived experience that we simply can’t figure out where to stand. As much as we want to act with compassion for these unknown generations, their very lives are a non sequitir to our own. Imagine my great grandparents trying to come up with a way to prevent the crimes of 9/11/2001, or seeing the road to credit perdition that would make the Great Recession of 2008 a reality.
As we have gone along more or less unmoved by our predicament we have undergone a period of foreshortening. We have gone from warnings about the lives of distant and unimagined people, to warnings that are about the lives of today’s grade-schoolers and even the present class of college students. Just as the warnings of peak resources, climate disasters and the corresponding financial collapse have become more urgent, the need for change has become more critical. Radical solutions for providing food, water and other basic needs will be necessary, not because they will save us from a massive social and economic transition, but because they will be the survival tools for that transition.
Even as the carbon-fuel infrastructure is both unsustainable and irreplaceable, the extent to which we bend the powers of this socio-economic machine to transition tasks will be the extent to which there is a degree of peace and happiness in the transition. We simply cannot wait to produce the alternative energy systems, the renewable modes of transport, the ecologically and economically sound localized communities until the peak pricing system has reached runaway proportions. We can’t waste another dollar or another barrel on wars to control this declining resource. There will be a day when the decline is a publicly traded fact. If military might rules the day at that point, the escalation to mutually assured destruction is a very real possibility.
I believe with all my heart that God has not abandoned us. I believe that God is working through countless people to make a path to life in this trying time. And I believe that God is calling the church to cease whimpering about attendance, worship wars, and cracks in the church steps. In the great collapse that followed the unwinding of the Roman Empire, the church remained as a remnant of the old culture into the dark ages. The monasteries of the Middle Ages provided beacons of light in a dark time, and preserved much of the culture that would be more broadly reclaimed in the Renaissance.
I hear God calling us again today. To be preservers of the sacred story. To be brave relinquishers of the status quo. To be a community of teaching, service and love. I believe God is calling us to lead. To bend every bit of carbon-energy we have to sustainable organic food production, localized community and renewable energy. In order that we might be both a witness and a lifeboat in the days to come. That the final petroleum generation would leave a legacy of life for their children’s grandchildren.
However, it occurs to me that the same unpredictability existed in the lives of their own children, my grandparents. Could those who were infants during the Depression of 1893 imagine the deprivation of the Great Depression? Could the generation that witnessed the so-called Great War have foreseen the devastation of the Second World War? Could my great grandmother have possibly considered that her daughter would work outside the home for much of her adult life, let alone that her last assignment would be to inspect machine parts for a space-plane called “Columbia”?
Since the 1950’s the warning bells first sounded by M. King Hubbert’s theory of peak oil, echoing in the 1960’s through Rachael Carson’s Silent Spring and amplified by the oil embargo of the 1970’s, there have been voices crying out for future generations of unborn humanity. Why have we been so slow to respond? I think part of the problem is the long horizon we have been asked to consider. Warnings about the lives of our grandchildren or great-grandchildren are so far from our lived experience that we simply can’t figure out where to stand. As much as we want to act with compassion for these unknown generations, their very lives are a non sequitir to our own. Imagine my great grandparents trying to come up with a way to prevent the crimes of 9/11/2001, or seeing the road to credit perdition that would make the Great Recession of 2008 a reality.
As we have gone along more or less unmoved by our predicament we have undergone a period of foreshortening. We have gone from warnings about the lives of distant and unimagined people, to warnings that are about the lives of today’s grade-schoolers and even the present class of college students. Just as the warnings of peak resources, climate disasters and the corresponding financial collapse have become more urgent, the need for change has become more critical. Radical solutions for providing food, water and other basic needs will be necessary, not because they will save us from a massive social and economic transition, but because they will be the survival tools for that transition.
Even as the carbon-fuel infrastructure is both unsustainable and irreplaceable, the extent to which we bend the powers of this socio-economic machine to transition tasks will be the extent to which there is a degree of peace and happiness in the transition. We simply cannot wait to produce the alternative energy systems, the renewable modes of transport, the ecologically and economically sound localized communities until the peak pricing system has reached runaway proportions. We can’t waste another dollar or another barrel on wars to control this declining resource. There will be a day when the decline is a publicly traded fact. If military might rules the day at that point, the escalation to mutually assured destruction is a very real possibility.
I believe with all my heart that God has not abandoned us. I believe that God is working through countless people to make a path to life in this trying time. And I believe that God is calling the church to cease whimpering about attendance, worship wars, and cracks in the church steps. In the great collapse that followed the unwinding of the Roman Empire, the church remained as a remnant of the old culture into the dark ages. The monasteries of the Middle Ages provided beacons of light in a dark time, and preserved much of the culture that would be more broadly reclaimed in the Renaissance.
I hear God calling us again today. To be preservers of the sacred story. To be brave relinquishers of the status quo. To be a community of teaching, service and love. I believe God is calling us to lead. To bend every bit of carbon-energy we have to sustainable organic food production, localized community and renewable energy. In order that we might be both a witness and a lifeboat in the days to come. That the final petroleum generation would leave a legacy of life for their children’s grandchildren.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
New Blog
Please check out my essays and thoughts about the massive energy transition that is coming in the near future. You can follow my updates at The Final Generation blog.
Monday, November 29, 2010
The Second Day of Advent
I was home sick again today, but things are looking up on that front, so I expect to be back in the --saddle-- office chair tomorrow. If you have to be home sick, and can accommodate it into your life, I highly recommend having a puppy curled up at your feet while you sleep. It makes the moment seem less unpleasant, no matter how loud you snore when thoroughly congested.
I'm looking forward to setting up our Advent wreath tomorrow (actually a reusable form in the shape of Noah's Ark, a gift from my mother). I'm always amazed at how taking just a few minutes to light it before dinner and spend some time reflecting changes the character of our meals, even though we always pray before eating.
This week will bring one of my favourite Advent activities, the shopping party for the families of Concordia Lutheran Church. Each year the youth groups of several churches gather for a big shopping trip. We divide into groups and use donated funds to find gifts for several families, including parents and children. We then wrap all of the gifts and load them into a truck for delivery. It is one of the most popular events of the year.
I believe that this comes from the joy of pure giving. These gifts are given to strangers, out of love and have almost no chance of being reciprocated. It's the kind of giving that comes from the divine heart.
I'm looking forward to setting up our Advent wreath tomorrow (actually a reusable form in the shape of Noah's Ark, a gift from my mother). I'm always amazed at how taking just a few minutes to light it before dinner and spend some time reflecting changes the character of our meals, even though we always pray before eating.
This week will bring one of my favourite Advent activities, the shopping party for the families of Concordia Lutheran Church. Each year the youth groups of several churches gather for a big shopping trip. We divide into groups and use donated funds to find gifts for several families, including parents and children. We then wrap all of the gifts and load them into a truck for delivery. It is one of the most popular events of the year.
I believe that this comes from the joy of pure giving. These gifts are given to strangers, out of love and have almost no chance of being reciprocated. It's the kind of giving that comes from the divine heart.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
On the First Day of Advent
All the little mile markers have been passed. The Halloween Candy and costumes were surreptitiously mutated into garlands and blinking icicles. The slant of the advertising began to change ever so slightly, from "buy this, you need it!" to "buy this for someone, they need it, and you might need one too!" There have been television spots featuring frightening men and women with an OCD like attraction to sales, and a manic longing to make Christmas a reality, sooner rather than later. Finally, with Thanksgiving out of the way, our brief homage to gratitude has given way to a bacchanal of desire and the paradox of saving by means of spending.
I entered into this season sick; not some sort of high-minded world-weariness, but a honest to goodness respiratory infection, with coughing and aches and the like. It's not a big deal, but it has kept me out of the stores for the large part. It also seems to complement my own sense of impending disappointment.
Not disappointment with Advent, I love the season. I love immersing myself in the hopeful language of the prayers, the call to reflection and introspection, the yearning and even begging for the Savior to come. I love the songs which echo with strains of resurrection and redemption. I crave the promises of an enduring peace they contain. My disappointment seems to be rooted in the reality of what Advent will lead to, Christmas.
It's not that I'll be let down by the telling of the Christmas story, the children carrying the creche to its place, or the soaring anthems of the late-night Christmas Eve worship. It's not as though I have onerous visits to make, I enjoy spending time with family and friends. I'm certainly not dreading tacky and awful gifts, my circle of exchange is small and thoughtful. I'll be let down by Christmas, because with all that Advent promises, all we'll get is Christmas.
The great trumpets to announce a new day, will probably not blow this year. The quivering earth, the rattling stars, the falling of the heavens, the end of injustice and hate are all still off in the future. We will sing Magnificats with gusto and put them away with a pile of wrapping paper on Christmas night. If the greatest presents are presence, then when all the visiting is done, I will still be left wanting.
For if this Advent is leading to another Christmas, then the best I can hope for is a powerful rebirth of joy in my life. A joy that comes from knowing that the first Advent had momentous consequences for the whole world because it ended with Incarnation. It was that gift that makes me yearn so longingly that this Advent would end with Restoration. That the Incarnate one would be that way, here, now with us. And that all of God's waiting people, who long for the days when stars are falling, will see each other, face to face once more, and know just how impoverished our giving is compared to the gifts we have received.
Because in that great company of souls waits a dear brother named Gerald. He was my father, and his presence would be greater than all presents combined. Because if we could meet face to face, then I could do the same with the Christ we are all waiting for, and there would be no more occasion for tears ever again.
Amen! Come Lord Jesus!
I entered into this season sick; not some sort of high-minded world-weariness, but a honest to goodness respiratory infection, with coughing and aches and the like. It's not a big deal, but it has kept me out of the stores for the large part. It also seems to complement my own sense of impending disappointment.
Not disappointment with Advent, I love the season. I love immersing myself in the hopeful language of the prayers, the call to reflection and introspection, the yearning and even begging for the Savior to come. I love the songs which echo with strains of resurrection and redemption. I crave the promises of an enduring peace they contain. My disappointment seems to be rooted in the reality of what Advent will lead to, Christmas.
It's not that I'll be let down by the telling of the Christmas story, the children carrying the creche to its place, or the soaring anthems of the late-night Christmas Eve worship. It's not as though I have onerous visits to make, I enjoy spending time with family and friends. I'm certainly not dreading tacky and awful gifts, my circle of exchange is small and thoughtful. I'll be let down by Christmas, because with all that Advent promises, all we'll get is Christmas.
The great trumpets to announce a new day, will probably not blow this year. The quivering earth, the rattling stars, the falling of the heavens, the end of injustice and hate are all still off in the future. We will sing Magnificats with gusto and put them away with a pile of wrapping paper on Christmas night. If the greatest presents are presence, then when all the visiting is done, I will still be left wanting.
For if this Advent is leading to another Christmas, then the best I can hope for is a powerful rebirth of joy in my life. A joy that comes from knowing that the first Advent had momentous consequences for the whole world because it ended with Incarnation. It was that gift that makes me yearn so longingly that this Advent would end with Restoration. That the Incarnate one would be that way, here, now with us. And that all of God's waiting people, who long for the days when stars are falling, will see each other, face to face once more, and know just how impoverished our giving is compared to the gifts we have received.
Because in that great company of souls waits a dear brother named Gerald. He was my father, and his presence would be greater than all presents combined. Because if we could meet face to face, then I could do the same with the Christ we are all waiting for, and there would be no more occasion for tears ever again.
Amen! Come Lord Jesus!
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