Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The other crisis
Sunday, June 28, 2009
UNESCO World Heritage: Le Locle and La Chaux-de-Fonds
Saturday, June 27, 2009
A victory for the climate and for Obama
Friday, June 26, 2009
Impulse Solar
Thursday, June 25, 2009
The tragic confusion of war, conflict and violence
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Think, imagine, resist!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Hopeful Insubordination
Monday, June 22, 2009
Violence prevention: driving a car is potentially violent
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Symbolic food or fake reality?
Recently I was compelled repeatedly to reflect on the estrangement of communion from its original and real function (just as foot washing is estranged, but hardly practised): It struck me that communion, which gerenally comes at the end of the service, is proclaimed by inviting people to the table of the Lord which is generously set, and afterwards people rush home to have a real meal. Jesus' last supper with his disciples may have been symbolic, but it was a real meal and so was communion in the first generation church. People came to eat to their hunger and they celebrated the communion in the power of the risen Christ. Likewise, the washing of the feet was a common gesture with not only real meaning but real function. Both actions, as gestures and symbols carry beautiful meaning and perhaps power. My contradictory take on this is that while I think that foot washing may promote community and forgiveness, I feel we should reconsider communion or Eucharist as a merely symbolic "meal". For it is no real meal, no real food, we only pretend to have a meal and to eat together. And that's aside from the fact that often the symbolic act is done in a dark, overly sober or sad atmosphere, as if we were reminiscing eternal tragedy. Yet the Lord's table, to which believers are invited, thank God, in reality is rich and full. It is joyful and challenging, conversational and truthful. There is much more than the meager, thin, tasteless and dry bite which could not be further from really nourishing us. Some of our traditions have a sip of wine or juice - again, never enough to quench our thirst after a long and perhaps dry service in a hot room. Why are we not getting real? Perhaps that would be too challenging, to painful, too much breaking our habits of avoiding each other, avoiding truth, relegating reconciliation?
Jesus didn't say to his disciples, eat and drink symbolically, then go home and eat and drink for real. Jesus said, every time you do this - eating and drinking, do it remembering me. Sure, the last supper was the passover meal and as such, symbolic as well. Still, it was for real. Perhaps it is no accident that churches celebrate it only symbolically, pretending to share bread and wine. For in reality, do they really want to share bread and wine? Do they really want to break down the walls and barriers? Do they really want to set in motion the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth? Pretending is so much easier. You don't have to change. You can still feel good. At least you are forgiven and you are not alone. That's a whole lot to get already in a heart breaking, violent world. But is it enough? It is what the church claims to proclaim and to be?
I know, a lot of churches do - occasionally - eat together for real. After having celebrated communion. Eating together is a central and essential part of being human in the world. People eat together with their loved ones, their friends. And occasionally with strangers or those they would not call their friends. In the heavenly world, when friends don't have time to come to the table to celebrate, the strangers, the poor, the undignified ones, get invited. For a real meal, not for pretending. They love it. Speaking of which, that did create some substantial conflict in the early church. The conflict was addressed in a way that has proven sustainable to this day.
Let the church be the church - real and authentic, embodied and tangible. Real people, real food, real sharing, real change. Real faith and real community, wich laughter and tears.
Living Gently in a Violent World
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Foot washing
The Ekklesia daily email bulletin from June 8 tells the story of a former apartheid chief washing the feet of those he says he wronged. That gesture, beautiful for some, biblical for some, outdated and weird for others, is a compelling sign of forgiveness and of justice, tangible and real.
In my tradition - Mennonite and Amish - foot washing was a regular part of community and worship. The Amish practise it to this day and some Mennonite communities do so, even some very modern, or post-modern ones, who do it as an occasional special service. I have participated in some foot washing services and have every time experienced it as really meaningful, quietly joyful, and authentic service to each other, in the name of Christ.
I recall one such service when a highly placed church administrator - yes, even the non-hierarchical Mennonites have such positions - offered to wash the feet of a young boy who was known to be in trouble every so often and even if you didn't know you could tell from his face that he felt troubled. This boy's face was shining as he washed the feet of the smart man who had been the famous preacher that morning.
Some people might feel weird or disgusted at the thought of having to look at, let alone touch some person's feet who is not their friend. Or letting someone wash and dry your feet, when you'd rather not enter in personal discussion with that person. In contrast to mid-Eastern times of Jesus, foot washing today has absolutely no hygienic significance; we're all glad that the people serving us food or shaking our hands have washed their hands. So foot-washing is entirely symbolic, just as communion is, estranged from its original function which was real and useful. Foot washing I would maintain is a symbol of forgiveness and acceptance. Mutual, non-pretending and real. The fact is, while it is not needed for cleaning our feet really, it actually does create a gentle but strong sense of acceptance. That boy was, at least for the moment of the ceremony, totally forgiven for whatever he might have missed or messed up, and he must have felt so, probably far beyond that morning. And who knows what mark it left on his spiritual and moral memory.