The Formal Dance

In Augusta, it's called the Chizzle Wizzle Ball, a formal dance at Cony High School which occurs the week of the Chizzle Wizzle show, a student-run variety show which is claimed to be the "longest continuous student variety show in the United States". Year # 118 for them in case you're wanting to offer some competition! :-)

Hanging out at the formal wear shop in early March, one begins to understand that such events are rapidly becoming a thing of the past. Even weddings are largely "smart casual" affairs these days, but tuxes, cummerbunds, and white shoes are few and far between. It's easier for the guys, of course. They know that if they basically all look alike, then they haven't messed up. The girls, however, live in dread that there across the dance floor will be someone else in an identical dress. When I lived in Aroostook County, where bridal shops are few and far between, such occurrences were commonplace. There are treasured photos of two, three, even four dance-goers in identical dresses lined up together, all displaying a "less than amused, but I'm a good sport about it" smile.

The end result of the fancy clothes and the dinner and the newly scrubbed and vacuumed "ride" is a sense of separateness. The effort to which one goes to get ready for the big dance sets that time aside as "special." We know going in that the pictures and memories of this night will last a lifetime, and so we prepare.

On Holy Thursday, our church will be remembering Jesus' final night with his disciples, how they shared a meal at Passover. At some point during the meal, the youngest participant is invited to ask, "Why is this night different from all others?" It is the question that opens the door to the telling of the holy history of the Hebrews' deliverance from their oppressor.

We are approaching a holy season. Let us not drown these days in ordinariness, diluting their power in a vat of the "every day." Let us cloth our hearts and spirits with prayer and fasting and repentance, coming to God's holy festival days with a sense of expectation.

Why are these nights (and days) different from all others?

How Much to Warm a Church?

I imagine staring at your energy bill for the last few months is not the most pleasant task of the day. It's even less pleasant in a church setting, trust me. Thousands of dollars spent for a black liquid of unknown origin, all of which has been burned and exhausted up and out the chimney. As Winter yields to Spring, what do we have to show for it? Were the community and congregation better off because these four walls we call "church" contained heat on cold days? I surely hope so, and in my gut I believe so. But it is terribly intangible as I stare at the numbers on the page. What is the monetary value of worship? Of a community supper? Of the person who sits in an office or a classroom and talks of God and his or her relationship to the Divine? Was heating the church building "worth it?" Did we get our money's worth? I suppose it's like a pot luck supper. "If you walk away hungry, it's your own fault," my high school pastor used to say, standing behind the steaming casserole dishes and bean pots. Creating and heating a space for God's abundance to be made known is our way of setting the table, I guess. I'm personally grateful for all the folks who came to the party this winter, some of them old friends; some of them new to the church. I can't imagine life without worship and church, and so we'll pay our fuel bill and try to smile while we do it. In truth there is no putting a price on community and worship, even if both sometimes come with a bill. Warmer days are here again; let us give thanks in the House of the Lord!

Anyone remember this song of praise from the 1970's?

A Church in a Parking Garage?

While hurrying down a hallway in an anonymous parking garage in Portland yesterday, I was halted in my tracks by the symbol of my church on a sheet metal gray door. It gradually dawned on me that I was standing outside the worship and office space of our new experimental faith community in Portland: New Light Fellowship (www.newlightportland.org). Officially at 185 High Street, with plenty of parking which surrounds and towers over it, New Light is a community of United Methodists rethinking what it means to be a church (their entrance on High Street is actually a LOT more attractive than what I discovered is the back door). I got the grand tour from a long-time friend Allen Ewing Merrill who co-pastors the community along with his wife Sara. Also showing me around was Erica Tobey of Green Street UMC fame who had just discovered thousands of excess postal labels left by the previous tenants. (Lord only knows what she'll do with them; I suggested name tags, but that's probably a federal crime or something.)

It's been a fascinating journey for the New Light group. Rather than starting with a congregation and urging them to join small groups, New Light has begun as small groups meeting in homes who are just now starting to worship in a larger gathering on a weekly basis. Their space is cozy, flexible, and filled with possibilities. I don't know what new churches will look like in the 21st century, but my guess is that this is how they will start, with bonds of relationship and community in Christ. All that church stuff can come later (or not!).

Good luck, New Light Fellowship. I have a feeling you'll have a lot to teach us in the days ahead.

Wedding Season

One of the neatest things I get to do as a pastor is weddings. I know, horror stories about "Bridezillas" abound. But the 200 or so ceremonies I've presided over have by and large been wonderful times of mutual love and family support. Folks do get stressed, sometimes about inconsequential things, but at some point the power of the loving commitment they're making always breaks through. The couple are pledging mutual love "forever," and even in today's jaded world, that's a big deal, a REALLY big deal. It's probably the most foolishly hopeful thing we do as people of faith, and yes it doesn't always end "happily ever after." Nonetheless, it is a moment when we reach out beyond ourselves towards the One who created us, with a prayer that we mortal creatures be capable of making a life-long commitment. Despite the naysayers, faults, and failures along the way, marriages are capable of bringing amazing joy into our lives.

One of the debates going on in my state at the moment is whether gay couples should have the right to marry. Although United Methodists aren't allowed to celebrate same sex marriage ceremonies, it is an on-going debate in our denomination as well. The State of Maine law being considered doesn't require churches to change their practice or beliefs, but provides gay couples with a license that can be used by a civil officer, or by a clergy person who represents a church that is willing to offer marriage to such couples. To me that sounds like a matter of equality and justice, that all adults should have the option to marry the person whom they love the most. I've heard the arguments that providing gay couples with the right to marriage will somehow diminish or threaten my heterosexual marriage, and that the institution of marriage is irretreviably connected to physical procreation. The former argument just doesn't "ring true" for me, however. Why would I love my wife any less because a gay couple next door decides to commit to one another for life? Wouldn't that example strengthen my belief in the blessings of marriage and family? I've never gotten the "procreation" argument either. Though I'm very proud of my three kids, and they've brought a lot of joy into our lives, I don't think that my marriage is "over" or "less than" now that we're expecting not to have more children. God willing, we have decades of married life together yet to be, and we know many couples who are blessed by mutual love and partnership in the absence of children. We also, of course, know a number of gay couples who are raising children too. Don't those families deserve the same support from society that we offer to "straight" parents?

The debate for the churches centers on what the Bible says and means, of course, and it should. We are a people shaped by a God, a book, and a tradition, and modern trends shouldn't casually change that. At the same time, how many thousands and millions of faithful gay couples have to sit in our pews before we open our minds to taking another look at the Scriptures? I know that some churches don't have the option of rethinking the literal meaning of sacred texts, but mine does, and with that freedom comes responsibility: responsibility to free slaves, and ordain women, and maybe--just maybe--to bless God's gift of love to mature, responsible people, without getting hung up on ancient taboos, lifted out of law codes we've long since set aside for any other practical purposes.

Anyway, such things don't get settled in a blog, and feel free to make liberal use of the "comment" link. In the meantime, say a prayer for all the folks who take on the blessing and burden of loving another. They help bind us together and make a positive difference in our communities, even if laws and customs need some time to catch up.