A Pastoral Letter

I don't have time for a blog entry this week - but thought I'd use this space simply to share the letter I wrote to the congregation.

Perhaps the best question to reflect upon this week: Now that we know the folks from our church are safe, how do we continue our help and partnership with the people of Haiti, who seem to need that help now more than ever?

A PASTORAL LETTER CONCERNING RECENT EVENTS IN HAITI.

Dear Members and Friends:

This has been quite a week for us all - and for the people of Haiti, for whom we care so deeply. Some of us have been more directly affected than others, but we all have felt the human toll wrought by this most recent tragedy, in a country for whom tragedy has become far too frequent.

I've been so proud of the response of our staff and members. In a strange way, it's in a circumstance like this when we experience most fully what "church" means. So many people--members and strangers and friends--have been so caring and gracious and helpful, as we all pulled together to do what we needed to do.

We are still getting reports on the activities of our group in Haiti - that they are all fine; they helped over 300 people in Thoman and are now doing a medical clinic there in the US Embassy; they haven't slept or eaten much in this time; and they are also soon to be headed back home, via the Dominican Republic. We hope they will arrive tomorrow or Saturday. To quote one text I just received from a group member, "We have been able to help so many."

While we are jubilant at the news of our group's safety, that is tempered by the news that there may be those in Pastor Luc's church who did not fare so well; and of course by the fact that thousands in Haiti are hurt and have died.

Many have asked - What now? How shall we respond? Here are some exhortations, for now, on that score.

Pray, and worship. This Sunday is a Sunday to come to church; we need you, as an integral member of the community, to give your presence through prayer and worship. We will give thanks for good news, and we will lament the tragedy, as we affirm our ultimate hope in Christ, and pray for all the people in and of Haiti. We plan to have our usual Levi Sunday service - what more appropriate thing than to be reminded of the importance of our service to the world as Christians.

Give. This Sunday, we will be taking up a special offering for immediate disaster relief through Presbyterian Disaster Assistance. Our longstanding work in Haiti is more important now than ever. The recovery effort will take years. We are in a unique position to support that effort because of our longstanding mission relationship to Pastor Luc and Haiti--for whose work we will take up another offering in February. What you can do now is give. Money is the most effective form of help. And this Sunday we are also collecting items that the City of Trenton will distribute. Click this page on our website for more details.

Lastly - know that we're working with family members of our group in Haiti, to prepare for their return and care for their needs. Hope you will continue to pray for them, for Pastor Luc and his churches, and for those who are suffering so deeply in Haiti.

Such events often "bend" and challenge our Christian faith; it will take time and grace for some of us to make sense of it. For now, let us hear Paul's words - God's words he heard during a weak moment: "My grace is sufficient for you."

In Christ,

Jeff Vamos

The Big Kahuna and the Stink of Love

Very few words this week; I'm beginning a DMin program at Wesley Seminary in Washington, DC, and have once again entered this strange landscape of mental (and spiritual) exploration. A landscape that includes the trashy dorm room I've been assigned -- and a roommate who must be the son of Oscar Madison. What a delight!

This Sunday is Baptism of the Lord Sunday, when we will reaffirm our baptism and baptismal covenant.

Is it possible that we understand the mystery of our baptism -- the spiritual cleansing represented therein -- only as we know the dirt of our human life -- fully experience it? As James Baldwin asserts, we worship not an alabaster Christ, but one acquainted with "the stink of love."

Homework for anyone wishing to have it (or if there are those reading these words wanting a five minute exercise in procrastination) - your assignment: watch this clip from the movie The Big Kahuna. The context is clear enough: the Danny Divito and Peter Facinelli characters (the latter a born again Christian) are salemen of industrial lubricants - along with Kevin Spacey (not pictured in the clip).

What is character? And how might the character of baptism be known only in realizing "the things we regret?"

Can you relate to Phil's (Danny DeVito's) definition of character?

See you Sunday!

Jeff

PS - if you've never seen the movie, The Big Kahuna is well worth the watch - invite some friends over to see it and discuss!

Fountainhead Phase: Ayn Rand Anyone?

Happy New Year to all! How great to have some down time - and I hope you and yours are enjoying some as well - and that you have had a blessed Christmas. (Excuse me...are having).

OK - this Sunday's theme: willpower. Perhaps a worthy topic for those taking inventory of their lives at the division between Oh-nine and Oh-Ten. Anybody out there thinking of New Year's resolutions? And if you are...here's a question: How does one get the power, the willpower, to change? To become?

Kicking around in my cluttered head amidst this rumination is...Ayn Rand. I will confess: I have never read The Fountainhead. Read a summary or two, and have read up on "objectivism" and its relationship (and to some degree non-affinity) with brother Friedrich Nietzsche.

One of the most hilarious bits of lit I've read in the past couple years is Tobias Wolff's depiction of Ayn Rand in his wonderful little book Old School. (A quick read, totally worth it; one of the books that made me boo hoo like a babe at the end....). In it, he describes the main character's "Fountainhead" phase - disdaining all forms of mediocrity, and "second handers'" attempts to bring down his quest for excellence. A hoot.

The reason I mention this: Ayn Rand and Friedrich Nietzsche are frisky atheists - the latter brilliant, the former banal in my humble opinion - but both are poster children for the philosophical school of thought that focuses on self-will. The chief gift of being human is the ability to create, and to create one's destiny apart from the mediocritizing influence of the madding crowd. In this mode of thinking, faith misdirects our human will toward that which is unworthy of us; toward a "slave morality" as Nietzsche put it, which lauds the lowly, and shuns the great. (Love to hear from any Nietzscheans or anti-Nietzscheans out there).

Read Nietzche and you'll see he's got a lot to say, even to Christians. Not so much (OK, not having really read her) Ayn Rand, but I'm still open.

But to the point here: where does the power to change come from? The power to become who we are truly meant to be as humans? Does it come from our human will and determination? Or is there something to the notion that that power in fact comes from a source beyond human; and we put it to use in simply trusting it, believing in it.

Those in 12-step programs call it a "higher power". I would imagine such folk are not terribly simpatico with likes of Rand and Nietzsche. Theirs (and mine) is the belief that change requires something beyond us, a power that is higher than the human will. According to John, a power "to become children of God, who [are] born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God." Read the full text of John 1:1-18 here.

Where do we get the power to change? Love to hear any stories about how folk have found the power and ability to do that - to change something about themselves. How did you decide what needed to change? What was it that prompted you to do so? Setbacks and backslides? Success and confidence? Love to hear from you - by email or, heck, responding here....

Lastly...anybody out there who also had a "Fountainhead Phase". (I know a few of them...).

Meanwhile - Happy New Year! And good luck with those resolutions.

Jeff V.

As it had been told them....

Bah, humbug. I'll be honest: I hate preaching on Christmas Eve.

Why? 'Tis the most challenging day of the year. Folk want to get to their eggnog. Or have already had a healthy dose. Folk want their shot of church, without much todo about it. And what new to say about this way-too-familiar text?

So, keep it simple, I say.

Here's what I'm thinking about as I ruminate on the old, old story.

The Shepherds. They saw something. They saw something that completely re-framed their reality. "They went away glorifying and praising God, for all they had seen...." (Luke 2:20).

They saw something. Here's the question this time rattling around in my mind: how is it that our seeing can frame, or re-frame, our reality?

We know of so many stories where such a thing - seeing - can define and reframe one's life for ill. Lot's wife looking back at the sin she was fleeing from in Genesis 19 became a pillar of salt; that act of seeing froze her mind. Captain Ahab, seeing the White Whale chew off his leg. That experience was like seeing the Medusa; with a mind turned to stone, vengeance became the dominant principle in his life.

Modern psychology has well documented how seeing such a thing can freeze our imagination, and lock us into a state of being that sees only one reality. Ahab on his mad quest. The war veteran who still hears the shells going off in his mind. The abused woman who fears all men because of the experience of trauma with one of them.

But, the Shepherds. They saw the anti-Medusa. Something quite different. They saw what reframed not only their reality, but (if you believe) all reality. God become human. In that act, God changed human DNA itself, by taking it on, strand by strand, Godself. God become flesh, glorifying all flesh.

That notion is one that should blow our minds; it should reframe every mental pathway. "They went away glorifying and praising God, for all they had seen as it had been told to them." Ah, there's a key bit, yes? Here's the challenge to Calvin. It's not just about sitting back and waiting for something to happen, something to be shown. It has been shown, but the Shepherds job is indeed to "Go." Go to Bethlehem, where you "shall see this thing that has taken place."

They have been told.

We have been told. Sure, no angel choruses. But we have the transcript. We have it on reliable testimony that the news is true.

A friend of mine told me about a movie he saw recently called The Secret. I haven't seen the movie, but he described it as a movie that profoundly affected his thinking. From what I could tell, the basic gist is this: what you tell yourself determines what you shall see.

A person whose dominant message is, "life sucks because a white whale bit my leg off," will see things a certain way. Grievance is the primary lens through which one looks at life.

Another, who understands, "God has glorified all of life by becoming one of us," will see quite another reality. Gratitude is the primary motif. What will such a person see? What glory? What goodness?

We've been told. Now is ours to Go. To see this thing that has happened.

Have you seen? Have you seen something that has re-framed your reality? And was your seeing somehow tied to what you "had been told"?

Do we--do you--not struggle with this? That father-in-law whose identity is frozen in your mind as the selfish one. The stingy boss who will never praise you enough. A life that is never satisfying enough. A spouse who is constantly not living up to your expectations. "Go. See." You might see something completely different, that reframes your whole life.

Worth a look.

So now I'm thinking: how do I love preaching on Christmas Eve? The opportunity to see something new in these so-familiar texts. The chance to invite the text to touch the heart of someone who never comes to church, the CEO (Christmas and Easter Only) set. What a blessing! What a glory! Praise and Glory to God!

Wishing you and yours a merry, and Humbug-free, Christmas.

Blessings,

Jeff V.

PS - THANKS to my good friend, the Rev. William McQuoid, who will fill the pulpit this Sunday, December 27.

Seven Minutes...and Why Pay the Preacher?

Since I am not preaching this week - thanks to Jim Moyer, Martha Davidson and our music program doing the homiletical heavy lifting via our Lessons and Carols service - I thought I'd offer a few brief thoughts from the grab bag.

Seven Minutes a Day: an excellent on-line resource. I've been really encouraged about our "Seven Minutes a Day" campaign - having heard from a fair number of you that you have taken up the challenge. For those unaware - this Advent we are encouraging every member of the congregation to take seven minutes a day to begin a spiritual discipline, if that is not already part of your life. Our suggested discipline is on our website, and there are some additional web resources at the bottom of that page.

One of our interns, Grier Booker Richards (spouse of our own Rich Richards, Youth and Young Adult Director) offered another excellent web-based daily devotional: Following the Star. I think this site is quite well done; I would highly commend it to you. It's a project done by Tracy Hartman of Baptist Theological Seminary in Richmond, VA. It guides you through an entire devotional time, with scripture, reflection, prayer, and even some really quite lovely music, if you want it - I imagine it takes about seven minutes. Hmm.

I realize that Advent is almost over - but never too late.

Anybody know of other on-line devotional guides out there like this - or unlike this - that span other liturgical seasons - or that run the entire year? Love to hear about it. Chime in!

Why Pay the Preacher? It was Monday, my day off, and this article from the Alban Institute ("Why Pay the Preacher?") caught my eye. After reading it, I felt moved to respond. (Hey, my day off - what else have I got to do?)

Not to open up a can of worms, but I've never actually gotten this kind of scrutiny about my pastoral ministry, let alone my preaching - sad that some seem to have received it. Thoughts? Or...not?

Blessings one and all in this season of hope, peace, joy and love.

Jeff V.

God on the Job

Here’s the question for the week: do you take your faith to work? Do the values you profess on Sunday, have a bearing upon what you do on Monday – and the rest of the week?

It may be true that we’ve got to muster the courage to go out to John’s desert and visit the bug-eating wild man, to hear the Word for our lives (last week's sermon theme, based on Luke 3:1-6). But in this part of the scene (Luke 3:7-18), John’s advice to the folks coming out to him is not, ‘join me in the revolution.’ Nor is he exhorting people to partake in the wilderness lifestyle with him (and the extreme cuisine that goes with it, for you foodies).

Surprisingly, he’s exhorting people to live the life befitting repentance – the Kingdom life of the transformed mind – right where you are. Don’t quit your job, even if you’re a despised tax collector working for “the man” (Caesar). Even if you’re a soldier in the goy army who is occupying you – John’s surprising answer to the people’s guilty question (“what shall we do?”) is this: for the time being, serve God right where you are.

I find that most interesting, and surprising – especially given the diatribe that John levels at those folk coming out to him, looking for a seat on the lifeboat (C’mon, read the text).

So – email me (which seems to be the most frequent way of responding, I’m finding). Or, gosh darn, use the Blogger system to weigh in here: What bearing does your faith have for the rest of your week?

To add a bit of nuance: I recently heard a friend talk about someone he was close with, who said, “the place I work is truly evil.” Are there folks out there in similar situations? And so, can one do “good” in such a place? Can one bloom where one’s planted with the goodness of one’s convictions, even in an evil environment?

And, who says you need a job, to serve God? It's interesting that I've encountered a good number of folk in - and outside - the congregation who've used the occasion of a layoff to put more time into ministering to others, which I sense many feel is in a way their real calling and vocation.

Love to hear from ya.

Jeff

PS – I mentioned the movie Into the Wild in my sermon last week - someone made a very interesting comment on that, and I posted it here as a response to last week's entry....

The Biggest Loser?

One of the comments in last Sunday’s sermon that garnered the most conversation (well, among folk I had a chance to talk with) was my reference to the popular television show The Biggest Loser. I made the point that our nation’s waistline is a sign of a spiritual (not just a physical) malady, and that Loser is an indication of our communal/cultural desire for something different than eating high fat food and hanging around on the couch.

Some described to me the very positive, gracious spirit of the show – how it helps people see that somehow, there is a way. One can change, especially with a lot of help and support. Grace indeed.

Is it true that Loser (whose name I can’t help but associate with the cross…and the thought of Jesus as the ultimate victorious loser…) represents a desire among us to “get in shape” – spiritually? And how does this metaphor of the physical embodiment of that quality (“in shape”) help or hurt our effort and desire to become spiritually (and not just physically) whole?

All who spoke with me about the sermon found that to be a helpful comment; some even indicated that they are now going to make a step toward physical fitness (yes!). And (but?) I am also aware of people in the congregation – and among my friends – who struggle so mightily with issues of weight, food, body image. To what degree is our desire to get “in shape” also a caving in to a body ideal that’s really a pagan idol?

If God loves us as we are, what does it say if our motivation to get “in shape” is to conform to that cultural body ideal that says to us, thin is beautiful? When every billboard supermodel peers down at us, shouting under her breath (and breasts): This is beautiful. What then of our Christian understanding that it is God’s imprint that has already made us all so. Thin fat, tall, short: all are imprinted with the stamp that bespeaks ultimate beauty - however badly we may smudge it.

But all this to emphasize the main point: how do we get in shape, as a community – spiritually? And what does that mean? And how do we get there together?

That’s what Advent’s about. Training for something. A worthy goal, which has to do with what’s ahead. And we need to train for it together.

And so, the conversation about “do you pray?” and “how do you pray?” continues, especially as the final note in the sermon was a challenge – as we begin our “Seven Minutes a Day” campaign – the encouragement to begin – or continue and deepen – a spiritual practice.

Love your comments on any of that above. How are you approaching the notion of getting “in shape”? How is this a spiritual issue for you? Are there folk out there yearning to get in shape “spiritually” and physically? How are you making a first step?

I realize I haven’t said much about this Sunday. That’s because I’m on the road (a trip to Louisville for church biz), and am, frankly, behind.

The text I’ll focus on is the Luke text (Luke 3:1-6), and I am going to focus on the wilderness as an important symbol in the spiritual journey.

Why does the Word of God come to John…in the wilderness? After Luke names all these muckety mucks in high places: a lowland voice of a crazy preacher is the one that bears God's Word.

How has the wilderness played a part in your spiritual journey? Has it enabled you...hindered you from hearing the divine Word?

Look forward to seeing you on Sunday.

Peace,

Jeff