Nerburn's Latest Book

I started, and finished, Kent Nerburn's latest book "The Wolf at Twilight" one evening last week. It is a really wonderful story and it felt good to connect with the characters from "Neither Wolf nor Dog", even if I'm more skeptical now more than ever that a great deal of the books are in fact story. That isn't to say they aren't real, I think they probably are, but not in a linear manner that they are presented in the books. One line in the book has stuck with me over the last week. Towards the end of the book, as the story is coming to and end, "Dan", a Lakota Elder and the books main character, says to Nerburn "To us, the world was a mystery to be honored, not a puzzle to be solved."
There are a number of memorable lines in the book, further evidence of Nerburn's ability to tell a great story, but this one really stuck with me. First, I agree with Dan's account of the western view the world. I think we do try to deconstruct everything in a manner that makes it just a big old puzzle that we can tinker with and maybe find out how parts of it function. As a scientist, and a researcher in particular, that in fact is what I do. Which brings me to the second reason this particular quote stuck in my mind, I do that! I try to pull the ecological realm of our underwater world apart to see how hit all fits together. I realize that it is supposed to enable us to better take care of things, but do we? Would we be better off looking at the world in holistic manner, marveling at the mysteries it contains and going along our own little merry way? Or perhaps because we're "enlightened" we've gone too far already. Perhaps we need to look at things holistically and gain an understanding of how they function, an ecological "both/and" if you will. As we try to deconstruct creation into tidbits that our tiny minds can grasp, it then behooves us to ask, prior to doing so, why are we doing this? What will be gained, what will be lost in the process? Science is a great thing, but along with the inquiry associated with it, comes a high level of responsibility as well as a level of humility. Unfortunately, the later is much to often absent in the scientific world.
But back to the book, read it. It is a marvelous story and I promise you'll learn a thing or two or 12 while you're at it.
Peace,
Jeff

Looking Back, Going Forward

I was really surprised the other day when someone mentioned that this was the end of the decade; it doesn't seem possible that it has been ten years since all the worries associated with "Y2K". As I thought about how much things have changed in the last 10 years, I was thinking about how I should be surprised at where I am in this journey of mine. Never, ever, would I have guessed I'd be where I am today, first, still working in Minnesota and second back in graduate school, at a Catholic/Benedictine University studying theology no less! What is curious as I look back is that I tend to be pretty goal oriented, I had planned on being in job X, in place Y, in year ABCD. I certainly have had the opportunity to do that, and I am grateful for that, but when that time came something told me to wait. Had I followed that goal, I certainly wouldn't be where I am on this journey, that's pretty obvious, we all make similar decisions in life. But this does represent a rather abrupt departure from my previous goals. Thinking about this, I've come to the conclusion that at some point I started paying attention. When one starts paying attention, when they are no longer thinking in terms of "self" is when things really start changing. When we pay attention we have to take into consideration all that surrounds us, the people, and places that have been given to us. We have to think in terms of what is good for all, not just our "self". In terms of Benedictine spirituality this is directly related to humility and obedience, we listen carefully, and prayerfully, to God in our own hearts. What I find fascinating is how well the Benedictines and John Wesley mesh in this regard. Consider John Wesley's Covenant Prayer:
I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed by thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things
to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

So, with that I leave you with the hope that in the new year you'll take the time to pay attention to the people and the places that matter most in your life, that you'll listen for God's voice and seek an understanding of what God is saying.

Peace be with you,
Jeff

Laity Sunday

A full schedule and two weekend courses have left me with little time to post on here. Here's a little tidbit - a short sermon that I preached at Alexandria UMC for Laity Sunday in October.

Today is Laity Sunday, the day we celebrate the fact that we, are church; the day we reflect on the fact that whoever sits in that chair or fills this pulpit can’t do it all.

“Making Disciples of Jesus Christ for Transformation of the World” that’s the mission of the United Methodist Church.
Let’s focus on the second part of that mission statement: Transformation of the World. That’s big, really big. So big that that I wonder if it isn’t so big that when we look at the world around us the thought of transforming it is just plain overwhelming and we toss up our hands and say what can I do, or what’s the use. After all Jesus even says we will always have the poor with us. Why bother.

Indeed, how do we do that?

I contend it is through story, our story.

Today is also the Feast of St Luke. It’s a bit unfortunate that we aren’t hearing from Luke’s Gospel this morning because Luke probably gives us the best story of Jesus and how that relates to transforming the world.
It is evident that the Holy Spirit plays a prominent in Luke’s Gospel and is undoubtedly central to The Book of Acts – it is generally agreed upon that whomever wrote Luke, be it Luke or someone else, also wrote Acts. From the beginning of Jesus’ ministry the Holy Spirit is present. For example, as really begins his ministry (Luke 4:14-21) preaching in the synagogue he reads from Isaiah:
Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone.

When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."

Upon hearing this, the Holy Spirit, through Luke’s Gospel, has made us part of the story.

But it gets even better. We are pulled deeper into the story at Baptism and renewed into the story every time we break bread and drink from the cup.

And it doesn’t end there either. It is interesting that Luke’s Gospel doesn’t end with a grandiose description of the ascension. It doesn’t end with the ascension as a focal point because the Spirit has more in mind for those listening to the story; work that is not only possible but necessary because of the ascension. That work is the church. And by telling the story of Jesus, our story, we become witnesses and constitutive to the story.

Ironically, there’s probably nothing that makes Methodists squirm more than the “E” word – evangelizing. Just mentioning it now probably has a few of you feeling a little uneasy already. But that's part of the Methodist story and if we’re bound to this and the larger story we need to continue telling it and we need to continue, or perhaps even start, living it.

What does this mean? It means we tell people about the community breakfast. Telling people that there is a place of refuge, a place of fellowship – even if for only a brief period of time.

It means telling people that we’re working to make a life or two better on Rosebud and in Sierra Leone.

It means telling people that we have a bunch of kids in the education wing every Sunday morning who are eager to learn about the story and in turn become part of it.
It means telling people that on a monthly basis the adults of this congregation come together for fellowship, share a meal, and to learn a thing or two.
It means being an active part of that story too, we can’t avoid it. The Spirit won’t allow that to happen. Imagine what would have happened if St. Luke would have shunned the Holy Spirit and thought, “ah, someone else can write this stuff down, I’m just too busy”.

Last week Jeff gave us his story about his call to ministry. I hope you were able to hear it and I hope that at least some of it resonated with you through this past week. I know it did for me. Having started the process towards ordination, I know how difficult it can be to articulate one’s call to ministry, particularly for a classic introvert like myself. Having said that, I’m convinced that as we take on the story the Spirit is there guiding us, all of us, to do the work of the church. We are all called to ministry whether it be making pancakes, teaching Sunday School, providing fellowship or comfort to someone that is sick, presiding over the sacraments, or just plain listening to someone’s problems. We are called because that’s our story.

Ours is a story of love, of a Holy Spirit that guides us and teaches us as theologian Eugene Rogers notes “how to love and be loved as the Father loves the Son and the Son loves the Father”. It is a love that creates us to be present to another. We are witnesses to a story that we have to share. It is a story that bears repeating over and over again so that the poor not only hear the good news but are part of it, that whatever it is that binds someone to captivity is broken, so that not only are the blind able to see but we are no longer blind to the injustices around us, that we work to free the oppressed and continue the story by proclaiming each year a year of the Lord’s favor.

By being fully part of the story we transform not only the world, but ourselves as well.

My Book List

I thought I'd follow David Bard's lead and add a little something about each book that made my "top 15". It's an interesting exercise and for me fairly difficult when it came to thinking about books from my distant past that I had read. It hasn't really been until the last 10 years or so that I really read much of anything for the sake of reading. Prior to that I was more of a magazine reader and then when I entered my current profession I was reading articles in journals and books on ecology and aquatic biology (as you can see, not one of those made my list).

First on the list is "Neither Wolf nor Dog" by Minnesota author Kent Nerburn. It's the story of his travels and discussions with a Lakota elder. Although written through "white eyes" it gives one a glimpse of the crap we've dealt Native peoples over the course of our nation's history on a very personal level. It's one of a very few books that quite literally changed the way I think about things. Another book that fits that category is "A Sand County Almanac" by Aldo Leopold. I first read this book when I as in 6th grade and every March I read it again. Leopold's work is foundational in modern ecology and it is impossible to understand issues of land, sustainability, and land-human interactions without this book, particularly the essay on "The Land Ethic". Dan O'Brien's book "Buffalo for the Broken Heart" is a true-life story about his efforts to raise bison for food in a sustainable, humane manner. It's a great story and you learn about the foibles and failings of our nations agricultural policy and blatent disregard for the Great Plains as you read.

"The Politics of Jesus" by John Howard Yoder is challenging to say the least. Yoder uses Luke's Gospel to demonstrate the political nature of Jesus and makes a very strong case against "just war theory". It's about power, politics, and pacifism and love of neighbor. Personally, I think he's the leading theologian of the last 50 if not 100 years.

I love reading Louise Erdrich and "The Last Report on Miracle at Little No Horse" is by far my favorite. She's just a great story teller and writer. There are so many twists and turns in this book that you can't put it down. Joseph Marshall is a prolific writer and story teller. His book "The Lakota Way" focuses on stories that demonstrate the core values of Lakota society: bravery, fortitude, generosity, wisdom, respect, honor, perseverance, love, humility, sacrifice, love, and compassion. John Trudell's collection of poems "Lines from a Mined Mind" (they're actually song lyrics to his blues music), is often a difficult read. He's brutally honest and in your face with his feelings, yet there is a certain kinship there. Like he says, "I'm just a human being trying to make it in a world that is very rapidly losing its understanding of what it means to be human". There are days I certainly feel that way.

Pat Conroy has a way of taking me back to the south that's difficult to explain and his character development is incredible. Of all his books, Prince of Tides is my favorite (why did they wreck it with that stupid movie!!!). Ah, Lamb (subtitled "The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal"). Chris Moore's wacky and thought provoking christologic tale is one I've read a couple of times. Moore's research is impressive and the book is a "hoot".

I like reading Black Elk Speaks just to find the parallels between the Lakota and Christian worldviews. There's an endless sense of mysticism here.

Aldo Leopold's "The River of the Mother of God" is a collection of essay's that were foundational for Leopold's development of his "land ethic". There are a number of interesting essays related to theology as well, like discussions of forestry practices in the Old Testament. "Worship as Theology" by Don Saliers is a look at what it means when we say "Come, Lord Jesus" or ask God's will be done on earth "as in heaven" as well as what takes place when we gather as community.

"The Necessity of Empty Places" by Paul Gruchow is a series of essays about his travels to quiet places that are often overlooked by a society that is always "on the go". I particularly love his description of listening and watching the sandhill cranes migrating along the Platte River in Nebraska. I miss his writing. I cheated a bit with Cloister Walk and Dakota, both by Kathleen Norris but they are intertwined to some degree. Both deal with her developing love of the prairie, her struggle to find a spiritual component to life, and her life with the Benedictine monks. Of course the connection to St. John's Abbey is a bonus here as well.

Finally, Make Way for Ducklings by Robert McCloskey had to make the list. I think it was the first book I ever checked out from the school library. I've always loved ducks and I used to spend hours and hourse drawing and redrawing the duck illustrations in the book. I have no doubt that it influenced my career path as well.

So, there you have it; a number of books that will always be on my shelves and in some way, shape or form, shaped me into who I am.
Peace,
Jeff

A Lesson from the Prairie

It is not a big secret that I love the prairie. I love the plants, the animals, the people, and the overall landscape of this incredible ecosystem. I often seek out what little remains of the prairie and do a little "walk about". This morning I did just that on a small, roughly 80 acre parcel owned by The Nature Conservancy. Now is the perfect time to observe the diversity of life that makes up a prairie ecosystem, the forbs are in bloom and the grasses are starting to set their seeds for the year. As I walked across the prairie this morning the air was heavy with corn pollen, very sweet. This particular parcel of prairies is surrouned on all four sides by industrial agriculture, corn and soybeans. From atop the small hill at the center of the parcel all one can see in the distance are fields of beans and corn. In fact it is rather amazing that this 80 piece of land still exists at all.

This morning I was struck by the thought of the prairie as a metaphor for society and quite possibly the church. The prairie is diverse (in this picture alone, there are at least 2 dozen species of grass and forbs). It is that diversity of plants and animals that allows this ecosystem function under some of the most extreme conditions on the planet, 100 degree days in the summer and -40 degree days in the winter have no affect on the prairie. Drought rarely punishes the prairie like it does our lawns or our corn fields. If we are to function as a society, as a church, we need that kind of diversity. However, it seems to me that we are going in quite the opposite direction, we want to look more like a corn field that is all neat and where every plant is identical to the one next to it. We want to be individuals, like corn stalks, but when it gets down to it, we're much more comfortable when we just blend in. Perhaps what is worse is that we expect others to do the same. We don't celebrate diversity in fact we disdain it. In western Minnesota just a gravel road separates a diverse, life-filled prairie from a monoculture. I think the same can be said for society and even the church. If we could suddenly transform the diversity of prairie into a church setting how uncomfortable would we be? My guess our comfort level is much greater when the church is more like the cornfield, when everyone acts, thinks, and looks like we do.

Creation is one of God's greatest gifts to us. Indigenous peoples the world over realize this and they learn from it. Perhaps we too can look to the prairie see the diversity it has to offer and model ourselves, our society, and even our churches after it. When I walk on the prairie and see the diversity that is part of God's creation I can't help but think that it is the way things should be, a diverse community functioning together to over come the harsh realities of life. When we make room for diversity we make room for God and God's Kingdom.

Peace,

Jeff

Jumping into the health care debate

A couple of thoughts on a free-market health care system. Free-market health care advocates warn about rationed health care if we have a single payer or government option, yet we currently have rationed health care for people with pre-existing conditions or living just above the Medicare line. Free-market advocates say competition is the best way to manage escalating costs. Perhaps. Perhaps that works when you need to get your car fixed, but when is the last time you compared the cost of a strep throat culture? I know it costs me $14.95, $19.95, and $29.95 to get my oil changed at Fleet Farm, Jiffy Lube, and Mike's In and Out, respectively. I can make my choice of where I want to do my business based on that, and of course the quality of service I receive. It's a free market. That isn't the case for health care. Bottom line, if we're going to claim that competition is the best fix, then make it truly competitive.

Nearly 35 years ago, my younger sister Barbie died of leukemia. She was 8 at the time. Despite the number of years that have passed I can vividly recall the pain she experienced. Sometimes it was so great in her legs that she would crawl from place to place rather than walk. During the 4 years she struggled against the disease she was in the hospital probably more than she was out. There were complications, kidney stones, broken bones, all kinds of things. To this day, I'm not sure how my parents held things together. However, there was one thing that helped a great deal. Our family doctor refused to charge for any of his services related to Barb's treatment. Can you imagine that? Not a penny and he was at our house more than you can imagine.

The other day Mike Huckabee was ranting about how if he a member of his family had a brain tumor he'd want the best physician money could buy, that he wanted his doctor to make lots of money. The flaw in that rant is we assume that "the best" is always the most compensated. I'd argue that isn't often the case. There are thousands of doctors, lawyers, pastors, teachers, social workers, and nurses that labor in inner city and rural areas that don't make a lot of money. They work there because there is a need and because they recognize that their work is for the common good. The concept that a oncologist in Edina can make a million dollars a year is better than one working in Pierre making $200,000 is just plain B.S. And if it isn't B.S. then what we're saying is the lives of people in Edina are more valuable than those people living in Pierre.

Rather than working to maximize profits for a health care industry we need to be maximizing compassion for the common good. Rather than following a free-market model, I think we need to model our system after a small-town doctor from Winneconne, Wisconsin.

Peace,
Jeff

From First UMC in St Cloud

If interested you can read my sermon notes from July 12th here.