Servant Ministry

In a world where freedom is often touted as the ultimate ideal, as Christians, we come before that same world to serve in the name of Jesus. That's right, we are servants; not terribly glamorous, is it?

To be brutally honest, servant ministry is a tough sell to our consumerist culture. Nevertheless, it’s been something I’ve been spending a lot of time with in light of recent lectionary readings: Peter, Andrew, James, and John leave everything to follow Jesus. They freely leave their family, their stuff, and even their freedom, to serve. What a friend and model for servant ministry we have in Jesus! Notice how often Jesus tries to keep the attention on those he is serving and off of himself.

When I reflect on servant ministry, shadows of my past can creep in. I used to make my living (such as it was) playing the string and electric bass. Why in the world might I mention this fact? Well, here is the secret you don't know about most of the music you love: it is led by the bass (or whatever instrument functioning in the bass role). The bass is the harmonic time-keeper, responsible for outlining the chord-changes and holding a tempo. And exactly how many bass-players can you name? Probably not too many. Bass-players are servant leaders. The do the heavy lifting and get little of the credit.

If there is a match to freedom as an ideal in our world, it is celebrity. Too often the call of celebrity can overshadow our call to serve. But . . . we are called to serve, and moreover, we often serve in anonymity. The community following Jesus is just that, a community. Our true leaders act like servants and they only do so through the support of the community.

As one who has a platform such as this blog to reach servant leaders who may be toiling in obscurity, I want to take this opportunity to say thanks. So, thanks. Thank you for all that you do. Thank you for freely choosing a life of servitude. You may not hear it enough, but the Church would not be the Church without you. Your work does not go unnoticed and your work is important.

Now might be an excellent time for you to grab one of your favorite records (in my case, Herbie Hancock's Flood, featuring Paul Jackson on the bass), listen for the bass, and know that in that pulsating undercurrent of rhythm and harmony you are right there, represented. You go, servant leader! Know that you are the one making everyone dance.

This post was originally published on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts blog, on February 5, 2014. It has been reprinted here with permission.

What is Table Talk, Anyway?

I would not have preachers torment their hearers, and detain them with long and tedious preaching, for the delight of hearing vanishes therewith, and the preachers hurt themselves.

-Martin Luther

At one of my first Friday evenings with Southside Abbey last July, I overheard a conversation between a Friday regular and a gentleman from the neighborhood who was joining us for worship and dinner for the very first time.  After the initial introductions and welcoming sentiments, the SA regular described our worship and our work and our relationships in the community.

            “Well, I’m looking for a church to join,” the gentleman said.

            “Every Friday evening,” she explained, “we gather here at the hArt Gallery around 6:11 for fellowship and prayer and dinner.”

            “So, this is a church?”

            “Yeah – we’re a worshiping community.”

            “Like a real church . . . with preaching?”

For this gentleman, a mark of a real worshiping community is preaching.  And he wasn’t wrong about that.  The proclamation of the good news about Jesus and his peaceable kingdom has always been present when and where followers of Jesus have gathered for worship, fellowship, and a shared meal.  But this proclamation – sometimes called preaching – has taken as many different forms as the worship and fellowship of the many different communities of Jesus followers. 

In some worshiping communities, the preaching is a forty-five minute sermon delivered by the pastor as the central piece of the worship. 

In some worshiping communities, the preaching is a ten-to-twelve minute homily that is more of a meditative reflection as only one part of the first half of the worship.

In our worshiping community at Southside Abbey, the preaching is a little different than in other worshiping communities . . . .

One of the distinguishing marks of our worship is that we look to the Holy Spirit’s movement among each and every one of us gathered in leading our common prayers.  I call this the one-and-all principle of worship.  The Spirit may and does call on anyone gathered to lead the different prayers of common worship . . . or on all gathered to pray together.  So also, we try to remain open to the Spirit in our proclamation by applying the one-and-all principle to our preaching at Southside Abbey.  Therefore, we ask everyone gathered, as we eat our common meal (nestled within the prayers of our worship), to reflect on the Good News in conversation with one another.  We believe that it is in the relationships we cultivate and in the conversations we share that we hear what the Spirit is saying to us through each other’s words and lives.

Because our preaching takes the form of discussions around the dinner table – (usually wrapped up with a short summation of the themes uncovered through our conversation) – we have taken to calling it “table talk.”  History buffs - especially church history buffs - might recognize this name that we’ve affectionately given to the preaching at Southside Abbey.  The sixteenth-century Jesus follower and church reformer, Martin Luther was known for his lively discussions at the dinner table in his home.  Students, travelers, and other guests in his home often jotted down Luther’s conversations and witticisms, and these notes were eventually collected after his death and published as Table Talk.  Luther’s guests felt the need to take note of his words because they heard the proclamation of the good news of Jesus and his peaceable kingdom in Luther’s dinner table discussions.  Similarly, because we at Southside Abbey hear the proclamation of the good news of Jesus and his peaceable kingdom in our own preaching as one-and-all discussion at the dinner table of our Friday evening worship, we are now noting, collecting, and posting those conversations as our own Table Talk.  Like a real church . . . with preaching.       

Miracles

I love my family. I love the church. I love my job. I love my friends. Lately I have really been loving the Holy Spirit's capacity to surprise me in the most wonderful ways. I use the word “surprise” as that is what it is to me every time. You would think I might have learned something. You would think I might get a clue. I am a little like the children who are “surprised” every night at bath- or bedtime. Our community recently had a great surprise.

Like many, I had rationalized away miracles. Miracles are something that happen over time and with the gift of time and experience we can see the mending of a broken relationship or the healing of an illness as the miracles that they are, and they are, but . . . Big, immediate miracles were something that happened mostly during the time of Jesus. That is what I thought just a few weeks ago. Then it happened . . . surprise!

About seven years ago, Suzanne lost her only child, Brandon. Brandon and I were born in the same year, so I continue to think of him as young. He had Type I Diabetes and didn't take the best care of himself. One horrific day he didn't return Suzanne's phone calls, so she went over to his apartment and found him, collapsed on the floor. Brandon died . . . and with him many of Suzanne's dreams. She would never again get to share a meal or a conversation with her son. Suzanne would never get to experience the joy of watching Brandon have a family of his own. She would never be a grandmother. She would never see her son again. She would never hear his laugh.

But the Holy Spirit couldn't leave it at that. On a crisp morning two weeks ago, Suzanne received a message on facebook that began, “you don't know me, but I used to date your son, Brandon.” She continued reading to find that Brandon had fathered a child with this young lady and Suzanne was now the grandmother of an eleven-year-old-boy. Surprise! Suzanne has gotten together with the boy and in him she is able to see something of her son again. She has heard his laugh that reminded her so much of Brandon's. She is getting to know the immense joy of being a grandmother. Can you imagine how much love this child will receive? We have been calling it a miracle, because we don't have any other words for it.

These things happen. They really do. The Season of Epiphany is a season when we celebrate having our eyes opened to the presence of God in our midst. Where is God performing miracles in your community? What surprises does the Holy Spirit have in store for you?


This blog post was originally published on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts blog, on January 22, 2013. It has been reprinted here with permission.

Table Talk - Surprised by God

The Good News of Jesus Christ according to the evangelist John, chapter 1, verses 29 to 42.

John saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, `After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.' I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel." And John testified, "I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, `He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.' And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God."

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, "Look, here is the Lamb of God!" The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, "What are you looking for?" They said to him, "Rabbi" (which translated means Teacher), "where are you staying?" He said to them, "Come and see." They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, "We have found the Messiah" (which is translated Anointed). He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, "You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas" (which is translated Peter).

The discussion over dinner reflected on these questions:

1.  How has God surprised you?

2.  How is God surprising you now?

Sunday Supper, Prayer, Theology-on-Tube

Bob wrapped up the conversation with these thoughts:

The overarching theme that I got from what I heard [in the discussions around the table] is God’s ability to surprise.  So many of us are locked into – or feel that we’re locked into – this schedule of ‘this is what I have to do today’ and ‘I have to get this next thing done because of this other thing.’  My eyes were really open to this at Thanksgiving.  [Lisa and I] had eleven guys from Sudan sharing Thanksgiving with us, and one of them said to me, “You Americans, all you do is work, eat, and sleep.”  Work, eat, sleep.  

Work.  

         Eat. 

              Sleep . . . .  

                               And I thought, wait - what else is there?  

I was surprised that he saw that so clearly . . . and reflected that back to me.  We can get locked into that, can’t we?  Work, eat, sleep.  But there’s really so much more to this life.  

And if we just have the eyes to see it, God has the capacity and the ability [to surprise us], and he’s surprising us all the time – 

all of the time.

Even if we have an expectation and things don’t go well or the way we expected, God has the ability to surprise us.  And God often surprises us in way that our expectations are blown away.  We had a great gathering last Sunday evening for our first Sunday supper, prayer, and theology-on-tube dry run.  And I had expected that we’d have a few folks and it would go well, but we had whole lot of folks and it went incredibly well.  The discussion was really deep and wonderful.  What a surprise!  Even though we were expecting good, it was great. 

So the question I think I’ll leave you with to ponder as we leave this place is, where might you be surprised?  If you’re feeling sort of locked into that schedule of work-eat-sleep, work-eat-sleep, where are some places for to pick your head up, open your eyes, and be open to those surprises – to God’s surprises?  This is the season of Epiphany, so where might you have an epiphany – or, as the Greeks say, a theophany?  Where is God opening your eyes in this season of Epiphany?     

Table Talk - The Baptism of Jesus

The Good News of Jesus Christ according to the evangelist Matthew, chapter 3, verses 13 to 17:

Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, "I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?" But Jesus answered him, "Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness." Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

The discussion over dinner reflected on these questions:

1.  Why did Jesus go to John the baptizer at the Jordan River to be baptized?

2.  By asking John to baptize him, Jesus overturned John’s expectations for him.  What expectations do we have for Jesus, and how has he overturned them?

When Jesus, and folks from Galilee, Judea, and all the region along the Jordan made their way out to the river, they weren’t making the pilgrimage to take a ritual bath or have a spiritual pool party with John the baptizer.  John was calling God’s chosen people, Israel, back into the wilderness – the wilderness that formed them over forty-years of wandering after God raised them from slavery in Egypt.  And then John was sending them back across the Jordan River – just as their forefathers had crossed the Jordan River after their wilderness wandering – back into the Promised Land.  Back to Judea and Galilee.  Back to their homes and their day-to-day lives.  But sent back different – now sent back prepared.  By leading God’s chosen people through the baptismal waters of the River Jordan as an embodied retelling of their formative, foundational story as a Covenant people, John the baptizer was preparing them to recognize God’s coming Kingdom – a kingdom embodied in the Jewish peasant from Nazareth, Jesus.  John was preparing them to recognize Jesus as the Kingdom come, as the Christ, the messiah, the anointed.

You see, John the baptizer had been especially set aside for the task of recognizing the Christ.  The evangelist Luke tells the story of when Jesus’ mother, Mary, early in her pregnancy, visited her cousin, Elizabeth, who was pregnant with John.  And Elizabeth said that as soon as Mary approached and greeted her, her unborn baby leapt for joy.  This is because John had been set apart by the grace of God to proclaim and recognize the coming of God’s Kingdom in the person of Jesus Christ.  So, when Jesus finally came out to John at the River Jordan, John recognized him right away.  So, also, each of us who have passed through the baptismal waters, whether we did so as infants or adults, have been prepared to recognize the coming of God’s Kingdom in Jesus of Nazareth.  This is because baptism is a gift from God and not a work of our own, individual faith.  By baptism, God’s grace begins to work within us to prepare us to see and recognize Christ and his kingdom – in the person in need; in a meal shared; in the helping hand of a friend; in the still small voice within that assures us that though it appears that violence, sin, and death still reign, the truth is that peace, justice, and resurrection are far more real and abiding.  By God’s grace we have been prepared, through the waters of baptism, to recognize a Christ who overturns expectations – John’s expectation that Jesus should baptize him, the word’s expectation that in the end power must be violent, and our own fearful expectation that death is the final word.                        

You Pastor? You Pastor!

Several nights ago, I was startled by a knock at the door. While we are used to a steady stream of visitors at our house, this knock was startling as it came at nearly one o'clock in the morning. As I drew back the curtain to see my visitor, I knew who it would be. Sure enough, it was him.

I met him two days earlier when a well-spoken, well-meaning, over-churched neighbor brought him to my door. This neighbor had encountered the man on our diverse street and engaged him in conversation. In the fifty or so words of English he knows, the man – I can't use his name – told my neighbor that he had been brought to this country from Darfur, Sudan. He told my neighbor that Muslims had killed his whole family and that Christians brought him here and because of this . . . he wanted to become a Christian. My neighbor, well spoken and well meaning as he is, is done with just about all things Church (though he did make an appearance at last year's Easter Brunch and Lamb-B-Q), so he brought the man to me.

At the time, we talked briefly and I told him I would follow up with an Episcopal priest in our area who speaks Arabic. I’d be in touch.

It was one o'clock in the morning and he was at my door! I invited him in. What else could I do? Using the few English words he knew, the man explained to me that I had to come to his house right then. I was reassured that there was no emergency, but he insisted I had to come or he would never come to my house again. I don't respond well to ultimatums – my contrarian nature prevents that – but knowing what a huge deal hospitality is in his culture, I made an exception. What really got me moving what when the man said, “You pastor? You pastor!” He reminded me – as his language would allow – if I am a pastor, then I had better act like it.

I know. All the self-care-proponents just gasped. I know. Thankfully, I live in a small intentional community and I was able to take my brother in Christ and Southside Abbey's Theologian-in-Residence, Nik Forti, with me. We approached the man's house, with a gold plastic Christmas wreath on the door. When we entered, the decorations continued with festive teddy bears, flowers, and, displayed in a place of prominence, an American flag. It was surreal to think about this man - who had lived through unimaginable violence - decorating his apartment with wreaths, flowers, and bears. Oh my.

The man welcomed us in and commanded us: “Sit down!” This may be a cultural thing, but he seems to shout everything he says. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with glasses and a tray full of Fanta, guava nectar, and some sort of cola with Spanish writing on the side. I could feel my blood sugar rising, but again, there was that cultural thing of accepting hospitality.

As the man returned to the kitchen, Nik and I began to drink the offered beverages. The place reeked of cigarette smoke. When the man re-entered the room, he was bearing bowls and plates of incredibly good smelling food. It was starting not to matter that it was nearly two o'clock in the morning.

He disappeared again, this time into a different room. When he emerged, another man, who he introduced as his brother, was with him. Wait!?! Didn't he tell my neighbor that his whole family was killed back in Sudan? That is what he said, because that is what he thought until that evening, when his brother just showed up at his house. That's when it hit me: This was a welcome home party for a brother who was thought dead. The man didn't have anyone else to invite. Nik and I were the guests dragged in off the street for the celebratory banquet. Suddenly, the hour didn't matter, the cigarette smoke didn't matter, my blood sugar didn't matter. What else could we do but keep the feast?

In the days since that visit and that realization, I have been haunted by the man's words, “You pastor? You pastor!” All of us are called to care for one another, right? Through our baptismal covenant, aren't we called to pastor to one another? Then let's pastor!

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts blog on December 11, 2013, and is reprinted here with permission.

Thanksgiving Means Giving-Thanks!

My wife is a band director at a public middle school. A few years ago the principal of the school led the teachers through a process of how to apologize (loosely based upon the process outlined by Randy Pausch). This way students can buy-in to why they are apologizing and take steps toward reconciliation. The process is three-fold. First, say and mean the words, “I am sorry.” Next, say and mean the words, “I take full responsibility.” Finally, ask and mean the question, “How can I make it up to you?”

These words might yield thoughtful introspection on the nature of contrition, confession, and penance. For the purposes of this piece, I wish to jettison the meaning of the words in favor of the process – say how you feel, acknowledge the imbalance in the situation, take action (or at least offer to take action) – as it relates to thanksgiving.

Many of those who give of their time to the Church toil in thankless positions. Who remembers the flower arrangers? Who honors the acolytes? Who heaps accolades on the church secretary? What about office volunteers? Or sextons? Money counters? The altar guild? Lay ministers of nearly every description? Who says, “thank you” to any of these people? Often these ministers are addressed only when there is a problem and then not always in the most helpful ways.

This is a season when the culture gives lip-service to being thankful, but part of thanksgiving means actually giving thanks. Perhaps the Church could model that according to the formula above and we could start with those who give so much of themselves to the Church. So, here's the challenge . . .

1. Say how you feel. 
2. Acknowledge the imbalance in the situation. 
3. Take action (or at least offer to take action). 

A potential exchange might look something like this: 

1. I appreciate you and all that you do for our parish. 
2. This place would not be the same without your ministries here. 
3. What can I do for you to help you in these ministries?

Try it. Try going deeper in this way. Live into the cultural season of thanksgiving, returning to the eucharistic roots of the holiday. What better time could there be?

This blog post was originally posted on the Episcopal Church Foundation's Vital Practices Vital Posts Blog on November 27, 2013, and is reprinted with permission.