What Are You Looking For?

First, I want to say that I have not “moved on” from what is still preoccupying my mind – and I imagine the mental space of so many of us: Haiti. As I said on Sunday, we should not, we cannot forget. It would be moral cowardice to do so. In the strange workings of the spirit, we realize that the life and work of our church is now even more intertwined with their life, their pain, their rebirth.

But so much of life consists of holding things in tension; the paradox of suffering in Haiti. The paradox of the infinite God become human, to suffer on a cross.

And so we hold life in such tension. And we move on to other subjects…for now.

This Sunday I begin a new sermon series on the theme of love, called “Love by Any Other Name.” I will be reflecting on the three words in ancient Greek for love: Eros (romantic love); Philia (friendship love); and Agape (self-giving love).

Having an understanding of love helps us to practice it. And learning to love is like learning to play the violin: you need to understand the dynamics and theory of music to play that – or any – instrument.

In this case, your life is the instrument. Love is the music to express that song that has been placed inside of you – and in every human – whose expression represents our highest desire and purpose. And as the writer of 1 John says, when we love, "God abides in us." God takes expression in and through us.

This Sunday we begin by exploring a certain kind of love: Eros. Too often maligned, we will begin to appreciate that Eros is a gift of God to humans—a God who has created us to desire each other. And desire, even erotic desire, is the beginning of all love, whose true object, whether we realize it or not, is God.

So, this Sunday we will explore the question: what does it mean to “fall in love”? And what does this experience have to do with Christian life?

Our text is John 1:35-39. Please read it, and think about the question Jesus asks in verse 38 (“…What are you looking for?”). Note: The Greek word Zeteo can be understood as “seek” or “desire”. How would you answer this question?

And finally – you can help me out by responding to this question here: If you have fallen in love at least once in your life - how would you describe your experience? Did it make you behave in a way you would not otherwise? I know some will email - but post here if you can....

Thanks – and see you Sunday.

Jeff

Why? Or What Next?

This week's blog entry - I'm double dipping. I offer here what I am writing in our church newsletter for next month. Been another kooky week, but for us, dust is settling, even as we continue to pray for the people of Haiti.

Why? Or…What Next?

As I sit here to write this reflection, I can’t help but to think about what I know so many of you have been thinking of these past days: Haiti.

My mind is filled with images that both bespeak hope, and despair. I remember this past Sunday (January 17), seeing the Easter-sized crowd gathered in the Meetinghouse for worship, after our group of returnees got back (rather late) from a spirit-filled service at Shiloh Baptist. What hope I felt from the spirit’s tender care in that service—the spirit that helped us rejoice in the amazing providence represented by the safe return of every one our people. I will savor that worship service; I will never forget it.

And I think of the stories I’ve heard of the Haitian people, many of whom are still living in fields, filling their evenings with hymn-singing, waking to the glow of the sun and beginning another desperate day with worship.

And yet, my mind is still filled—as I’m sure is yours—with disturbing images, troubling thoughts. I cannot forget the images I’ve seen on the television of a country that was already in a state of disaster when the earthquake struck…images of dead bodies on the streets, mangled limbs, desperate survivors. I think about how members of our group themselves saw such things; heard the moans of dying people, carried the bodies of the dead.

And I think of how unfair it is that, in the words of Brian Williams, “some children are born into poverty and struggle only to die young and in great pain—while my children lead such fortunate lives.” Why? Why so much suffering for a people already so desperate?

I think of all of that, and it makes me want to break something. (I know, I’m letting down my pastoral mask just a bit). But I contend that it is something we do well to be angry about. Because, anger—if it doesn’t ossify into resentment, grievance or despair—can motivate us. Did you know that anger is an aspect of how we understand God’s love? Anger at what’s wrong with us and the world?

What echoes in my mind too is the wonderful sound bite that Louise Johnson offered in her words on Sunday: “It may be that right now the most important question to ask is not ‘Why’…but ‘What next?’” And what’s next is to “do the work of the one who sent” us, while it is day (John 9:4)—while there is urgent work to be done.

What is so heartening to me is to hear so many of the members of our now-returned Haiti delegation say, “I want to go back.” To hear in their voices a passion not to forget what they experienced, and to make meaning of it by redoubling our effort to help rebuild Haiti. We are in a unique position to do that, through our twenty-plus years of partnership with Pastor Luc and his ministry. That work is more important now than ever.

In the weeks ahead, we will be working with Pastor Luc to do just that. This week—right after they returned—Bruce McGraw and Joan Semenuk are busy at work organizing the consortium of churches who have been supporting Pastor Luc, so we can coordinate our funding and our help for Pastor Luc. The work is already beginning—and we all will need to step up to the proverbial plate, by generously offering what we have to give, so that people who have so little can survive.

Now it is day. And the work begins, through the one who is our hope, our help, and our Redeemer.

Jeff Vamos

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.