In the Prologue to the Rule of St. Benedict, our holy father instructs us, “…every time you begin a good work, you must pray to [God] most earnestly to bring it to perfection”[1]. This Practice of praying before we begin the work we have been called to instills in us a sense of God’s constant presence and activity within and without the exercise of human life. It is God who frees us from ourselves and those systems and structures of evil that prevent and pervert our good work, and so it is to God that we turn and seek refuge, energy, vision, motivation, and support. In this spirit, I’d like to lay out a few of the intentions I have set for myself in the year 2019 as a practice of prayer and accountability.
Build community I want to be a part of: I found myself in 2018 more engaged with the world around me than ever before. I assumed new roles at the congregation where I work, facilitating and organizing faith formation while continuing to work as a congregational organizer. I gathered with Oblates near and far to discuss the future of Benedictine spirituality. I participated powerfully with my neighbors in state and local politics and added my voice to the demand for immigrant rights, criminal justice reform, and economic justice. I filled my calendar with good and worthy things. And yet, I often found myself feeling disconnected, dis-integrated, and alone. Some of this, I fully admit, is a symptom of a personality that struggles to sit still for very long, pressing myself and those around me to keep reforming, keep transforming, keep getting better. However, an additional element is the trust I place in the authority and leadership of the institutions to which I belong to fulfill a need they Simply cannot fulfill.
I have waited and waited for the church to deliver on its promise of Community only to find that the kind of community I seek simply isn’t valued in the institutional bodies I am a part of. My faith was born of an understanding and a conviction that to follow Jesus meant a radically reoriented life; in family, community, politics, economics, and ethics. It meant a rejection of all those systems that separate us from one another and from God. It meant that the life I lead is remade in the image of a God who risked their very being to be in relationship with us and to free us from those death-dealing forces in our world. That is not to say that I ever accomplish this (certainly not), only that I am hungering for a community that aspires to this vision, that can hold me accountable to our values, and is willing to risk everything, including institutional, economic, and social power, to follow Christ.
Unfortunately, I have been asking this of an institution whose self-interest is completely wrapped up in maintaining and preserving the status quo and holding on to power. This isn’t a critique of any individual congregation, bishop, pastor, or synod. It is simply the nature of this beast we’ve been calling the church for the last 1500 years. Diana Butler Bass, in her book “Christianity after Religion” says,
The history of Christianity can be told as a story of the tension between order and prophecy. Jesus came as a prophet, one who challenged and transformed Judaism. A charismatic community grew up around his teachings and eventually formed into the church. The church organized, and then became an institution. The institution provided guidance and meaning for many millions. And then it became guarded, protective of the power and wealth it garnered, the influence it wielded, and salvation it alone provided.[2]
As much as we love to pretend that our particular institution is different, that we have somehow found the proper relationship between organization and community, we simply cannot deny that the vulnerable, transformational, and radical community that Christ has called us to has struggled to find expression in our congregations. It is there to be certain, but sporadically and in spite of, not because of, the institutional constraints.
My prayer for 2019 is that God reveals to each of us those places, people, and practices that set the frame for just such a community. And, that we feel confident enough in our need and our desire to be part of transformational communities that we refuse to wait on our institutions to lead, because they (we) simply won’t do it. We can honestly and authentically work, worship, and participate in these institutions, but we can no longer expect them to act against their own self-interest (I am writing this as someone who works for just such an institution, and who believes that the institutional church does, in fact, use its power to powerfully effect change in the world). When James and John asked for the seats of power at Christ’s right and left hand, Jesus responded by saying “…whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many”[3]. This is the community that I am hungering for, and rather than passing the responsibility on to a calcified institution I am praying for the courage and the humility to build it myself.
Recommit to the work of dismantling white supremacy: The election of Donald Trump, the spread of white nationalism, and the perpetual attacks on immigrants, people of color, and indigenous folk has opened a great chasm of grief, shame, anger, and cynicism in the United States. It was palpable again throughout the mid-term elections, and has been felt at dinner tables, in church pews, and across media platforms. For many of us who hold a significant amount of power because of the color of our skin, Trumpism served as a revelation that we are not the country we thought we were, much to our shame. We may have been aware that racism was real, or that there are certainly ignorant people everywhere, but I know that I was not attuned to the pervasiveness of white supremacy in our culture, our social and political institutions, and in our very bodies. In light of the events of the last couple of years, this level of ignorance is simply untenable.
Many of us who work in non-profits and congregations have begun to pick at this festering wound in our communities. We have attended anti-racism training, written carefully-crafted statements on Racial Justice, and begun to examine the ways in which white supremacy shows up in our communities. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) this not a quick and pain free process. It requires diligence, persistence, a willingness to be wrong, and the ability to shut up and listen. At various points in 2018 these qualities have been a struggle for me, and I am praying for the strength and determination to do the hard work of examining my own complicity in a system that destroys my neighbors of color.
Much of this work will happen within the congregation where I serve, and particularly around issues of immigrant rights, which is an issue that our community has committed to. How do we show up as a congregation of predominately white folk? How do I show up as a white man? How do we stand with our immigrant neighbors rather than serving from a distance?
What I am certain of is that if the gospel does not speak to the destruction of white supremacy, it simply isn’t gospel. All of the false hierarchies we have built to oppress and divide us from one another, have been obliterated in the death and resurrection of Christ. In 2019 I am praying that as we seek to follow the God who was crucified by an oppressive and violent system, we will remain committed to a way of life that upholds the dignity of all people and targets the sin of white supremacy in ourselves and our own communities.
Practice Joy: Jurgen Moltmann has said that “hope is anticipated joy”, and this has been for me a kind of mantra in the midst of really challenging and disheartening events. We are experiencing so much collective cynicism as a country, and the experience of joy has often felt horribly distant. However, it is the intentional practice of joy that may be able to rouse our latent hopefulness in 2019. But how do we practice joy? Practicing joy requires a willingness to be present, to be aware, and to give yourself permission.
Presence is often the most challenging task for many of us. We live and work and shop and eat in a constant state of busyness, moving quickly from on task to the next, planning and strategizing our next move before completing the one at hand. This is one of the ways cynicism gains a foothold, by convincing us that we are never doing enough, never ready to do finish the task, and never allowed to take a break. In this headspace our suffering just carries on until we die. However, when we challenge ourselves to practice mindfulness, to be present to our reality, we begin to see all the little graces that make up our lives. We find the peace of washing a dish, the comfort in a friend’s text, the inspiration of a neighbor’s garden. When we practice presence, we discover the joy of being, and the closeness of God in the midst of this being.
To get there, many of us are going to need to learn to give ourselves permission to slow down, to leave some things unfinished, and to rest. You are not reduceable to what you do, and though we often feel pressure from bosses, peers, friends, and family to keep on moving, keep on doing, much of the strongest pressure comes from ourselves. Can we give ourselves permission to be present to one another and to God? To practice all those humble liturgies of daily life? This is my prayer for 2019; that I might anticipate joy by giving myself permission to be present, and therein find the hope I need to live out my baptismal promises and to share the joy of this life with every one of you.
I’m praying that 2019 will present me with endless
opportunities to grow and learn and lead, and I hope that the same is true for
you. Enter this new year anticipating joy and carry that hope into the work and
the relationships you have been called to, so that together we can take part in
the fullness of the world that God has created. Amen.
[1] The Rule of St Benedict
[2] Bass, Diana Butler. Christianity After Religion (p. 89). HarperOne. Kindle Edition.
[3] Mark 10:43-45
