Sink your teeth into this

Rev. Tom Dolph

Food – finally, a spiritual discipline I can sink my teeth into. Thank you Lauren Winner!* It’s okay, if you need to take a moment to groan aloud at the above pun. I almost did.

I will have to admit that my initial reaction to the possibility of considering food as a discipline to further my spiritual journey was both excitement and trepidation. Excitement because, well, I love food! Trepidation because I suspected that, as a discipline, my love of food would be challenged. I was right.
I eat too much and too often, that’s easily discerned, but truthfully it is far from being powerful enough to move me spiritually. I mean if it were I wouldn’t still be eating too much and too often would I? But now, thanks to Ms. Winner, I have to deal with a more sobering thought, one that might actually have the strength to shake my spiritually complacent attitude toward food.

Winner invites me to consider that God is the protagonist in the story of me and food. No problem, I can easily admit that God is the ultimate source of everything that I put in my mouth. “God is great, God is good, let us thank God for our food!” All done, but wait, umm, if God is the protagonist, doesn’t that make me the… antagonist? No can’t be. At best, antagonists antagonize and, at worst, they are at cross purpose with, and actively in opposition to, the protagonist. Could it be that my relationship with food puts me at cross purposes with God? Recognizing that I am actively in opposition to God because of what and how much and how I eat could definitely be powerful enough to move me spiritually.

Perhaps, as a matter of discipline, I should pay more attention to my food. What might I learn if, before I fed my face, I considered what was on the plate in front of me? Where did it come from? Whose hands planted it, picked it, plucked it, poured it, prepared it? What are they eating today? Which of our world’s resources are being tested because of its production? What could I learn about God by studying the great variety of food available to me? What lessons lay about in the intricate structure and properties of our sustenance? (After all, even an ogre knows that onions can be metaphorical.) What would happen if I slowed down while I ate, taking the time to consider why Jesus told stories about food and drink, hunger and thirst? What does it mean that when he wanted us to connect with the meaning of his sacrifice he attached it to food? How would it change my life, my relationship with the environment, myself, others and God if I admitted that “God cares about what I eat”?

Food – finally, a spiritual discipline I can sink my teeth into. Will I? Will you?

*Lauren Winner is author of Mudhouse Sabbath, companion piece to this blog. (2003 Paraclete Press)

God’s Diet: More or Less

Rabbi Dr. Jana L. De Benedetti
Most people are amazed at all the rules I follow when deciding what to eat. I am not talking about watching my calories, or being careful about cholesterol or salt. How can I live in Louisiana – where everyone eats EVERYTHING – when I can’t eat shellfish or pork? Do I really have two sets of dishes, one for dairy and one for meat? (Actually I have four sets, if we count the dairy and meat sets for Passover, but that is something that happens immediately after Lent.)
It is true. I do “keep kosher.” Every time I buy food, or eat food I have to think about it. I have to check the information on the package for everything. Most of the time I have to drive 3 hours each way to Dallas, or all the way to New Orleans to get meat. I won’t have anything dairy with a meat meal, and I won’t cook anything dairy in the same pots as meat, and won’t eat anything dairy on the same dishes that ever had meat on them. I have to remember when I finished my last meat meal before I can eat dairy (and vice versa).
That sounds like an awful lot of trouble for thinking about what food to eat every time I want a meal or even a snack. It doesn’t feel like trouble to me. I do it because “God says so.”
Some people look at the food restriction in the Scriptures and realize that everything that God prohibits is less healthy to eat than the things that God allows. For example, pork and shellfish are more likely to get you sick than chicken – especially before refrigeration, and ovens that allow us to regulate temperature. Animals who scavenge and eat only dead animals have digestive systems that deal with that well – by our digestive systems are not designed for that kind of food. Many people think that God commanded us to eat healthy foods and avoid unhealthy foods. I believe that is obviously true – everything that God commanded was the better alternative and healthier. However, that is not what I think is the reason for the laws about the Scriptural dietary restrictions. I don’t believe that God wanted some people (those who follow the commandments) to eat healthier and everyone else should eat unhealthy food.
I think that if we are dedicating our lives to living a life that God shows us is “holy” then every moment of our lives should be guided by being holy. As a living creature I have to eat to survive. As someone in covenant with God, everything – even basic sustenance – is guided by what God has taught is holy.
I don’t feel deprived by having a restricted choice about what to eat and how to eat. I feel enriched by knowing what I am doing is holy.
I am proud to have been invited to participate in this Lenten blog, but obviously I am here to represent the Jewish part of the Mudhouse Sabbath experience. I wouldn’t presume to teach about the Lenten part. However, it seems similar to think that by giving up something for Lent, each person feels that they are giving of themselves to God. By sacrificing something, each person is showing what is sacred – it is not about the chocolate or alcohol or texting or whatever that someone is giving up, it is about having all of the opportunities when someone would have been reaching for the chocolate, and they now are thinking about God’s involvement in their lives. It is not supposed to be an opportunity to give up something bad (like making a new year’s resolution to be a better person, or exercise, or give up smoking). It is about finding something in your life that takes up your time and your focus, and using that time to focus on God. That is how I feel about keeping kosher. By keeping “God’s diet” I am eating more by eating less. It doesn’t feel like a limitation, but rather an increase. I don’t think about the limitation of foods, but rather the increase of opportunities in my daily life to be thinking about God and doing God’s will.
Another aspect of eating in a holy way (and there are many) includes thanking God for providing our sustenance. Most people who bless the food, or more accurately, thank God for providing the food, say a blessing before they eat. That is wonderful. In Deuteronomy 8:10 we are commanded to also thank God after we eat. It turns out to be a much mellower, thoughtful opportunity to talk to God. Before you eat, you are hungry and thinking about the specifics of how good it will feel to eat the food. After you eat, you can sit back and reflect on food, and living creatures, and comforts, and wishes and desires… and God’s role in the world. Enjoy your food. Try to make God’s diet your own by including God in every food choice you make. You may not decide to abide by the specific restrictions that God gave, but by being aware of God each time you eat, you are making eating a holy thing.

Keeping Holy

Rev. Joseph Awotwi

I chose the title Keeping Holy because as I thought more and more about this idea of keeping the Sabbath, a statement Lauren made gripped me. “In failing to live a Sabbath truly distinct from weekly time, I had violated a most basic command: to keep the Sabbath holy.” Would it be stretching it too much to say that since God is holy keeping the Sabbath holy – or set apart – has something to do with keeping God? Or may I say keeping the Sabbath holy is honoring God who is holy?
I must confess that the first few pages of the book brought back memories of struggle from many years ago [late sixties]. I had had a kind of struggle with the Old Testament. Here was I seeking to be faithful to the Lord (and God’s Holy Scripture). I had to take anatomy class and it required working with dead bodies and bones of dead humans. I had read in the Old Testament (Numbers 19:11-15) about becoming unclean when one made contact with dead humans. What was I to do? Forget about the anatomy classes (and that would have meant I could not continue the course and therefore change in career) or ignore what the Old Testament said? For many months I struggled with that issue. The classes were not that hard but the struggle made it emotionally (or was it spiritually) hard. To what extent shall a Christian hold the Old and New Testaments in balance or shall I say in tension? We cannot do away with that tension or struggle to balance the two. The question I am beginning to ask now is, “How best can I make that struggle bring about growth in the depth of my spirituality?” Lauren F. Winner’s book, Mudhouse Sabbath, takes me deeper in that conversation.
I used a picture of two athletes in a relay race passing a baton in my confirmation class. In relation to our faith, I commented that one runner passes the baton to another; the “old” or the established in faith passes on the faith (represented by the baton) to the “new” or younger in faith. As I read the book that image came back to mind and the question that occurred to me was what if we (Christians) thought of ourselves as the “younger” or the “new” receiving the baton from the “established” or the “old?” I can see us learning a whole lot from the “established,” in this case our Jewish heritage. I do not mean interpreting the Old Testament in a way we (Christians) want but rather giving serious consideration to how the Jewish people have interpreted it and lived by it. As humans there is a lot of comfort for us to be in a well-known, well-established rhythm. Those of us that have been in any of the academy sessions are familiar with the emphasis on the rhythm of each retreat. Time is invariably made for “Sabbath rest” during these retreats. When I read of the rabbinic teaching that Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday are caught up remembering the preceding Shabbat, while Wednesday, through Friday are devoted to preparing for the next Shabbat [page 8], I had a flash back. It concerned the use of psalms in the daily offices. “The psalm appointed for Sunday in the Revised Common Lectionary may be used on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday; with the psalm for the following Sunday used on Thursday, Friday and Saturday,” I see a common link here. A link that may be as old as we have had monastic communities; or maybe goes as far back as the Dessert Abbas & Ammas who preceded the monastic communities.
I found it intriguing that Lauren, the author of the book, found out after giving up the “old” ways that she really misses those old ways. “I miss Sabbaths on which I actually rested,” were her words. I remember when many stores were closed on Sundays and when it was put on the ballot whether to open on Sundays or not. We the people (of this ?Christian nation!) voted for stores to open on Sundays. We were forced not to shop on Sundays prior to that! As a personal choice I refuse to shop on Sundays except in case of dire emergency. That is part of my attempt to keep the Sabbath. It became obvious as I listened to Lauren in her book that my attempt to keep the Sabbath is woefully inadequate. I have to keep in mind the interpretation not to create. No, I hope I am not becoming legalistic. I hope I am getting in tune with the God that commanded that we should keep the Sabbath holy.
I am re-visiting the question of whether God had (may it be has!) a good reason for making it a law to remember the Sabbath as stated in Exodus 20:8 or to observe the Sabbath, as stated in Deuteronomy 5:12. Is that not what we do with God’s commands? If we can figure out a good reason then we keep it; if we cannot figure out a good reason we reject it. Consider the lectionary reading from Matthew 6. When was the last time you were in a community of believers that emphasized or even encouraged fasting? Our “cafeteria” mentality and attitude clearly come out in our approach to the commands especially those contained in the books of the Old Testament. In the light of the lectionary reading from Matthew 6, I was wondering what if instead of using giving alms Jesus had used observing the Sabbath? What would Jesus have said about it? And would that have made any difference in our spiritual discipline towards observing the Sabbath?

Letting your soul settle

Ellen Blue

I tell the seminary students in every class I teach that their primary task as pastors is to stay sane in the pastorate. They laugh, but I’m quick to say, “I’m not kidding.” And those already serving churches attest that it isn’t an easy task.

When one of my husband’s former staff-parish relations committees turned in their annual report to the DS, the first thing on their list of concerns was a desire that he be “more flexible” about a day off. They wrote that if he were “truly dedicated,” he wouldn’t need one every week.

Yes, that says a lot about the congregation. However, it also says a lot about how clergy can over-function and teach congregations to expect it. It says a lot about how we can convince ourselves that real dedication means we don’t need the Sabbath time that Lauren Winner describes.

One day in UMC History class, we discussed a reading about the indefatigable John Wesley’s activity. Later, we mentioned the historic examination for admission into full connection in which we must agree that we will “Never be triflingly employed. Never trifle away time; neither spend any more time at any one place than is strictly necessary” (BoD 2008, para. 336). A student raised her hand and observed, “If Wesley were trying to get ordained today, he probably couldn’t pass the psychologicals.”

I really wished I could argue, but she was probably right. John Wesley was a genius, a tremendously gifted theologian, a marvelous example of a Christian committed to being with the people on the margins of society. Over and over, as I teach about his written and lived theology, I say, “He was a man ahead of his time.”

But he did not achieve a happy family life. His late-in-life marriage tanked. Imagining him as a parent is . . . well, let’s just not go there. His journal plainly reveals his daily angst.

Furthermore, we know different things today about mental, emotional and spiritual health. I tell students to remind themselves often, “It is necessary that we stay in one place longer than strictly necessary.” We need to remain long enough to let our souls settle back into our bodies, a process which sometimes involves doing as close as possible to absolutely nothing at all.

One of my Top Ten spiritual experiences was being a guest at Sabbath dinner at the home of the rabbi in Monroe. I’ll write more for the chapter on candle-lighting. Now, I’ll just say that this family’s meal to mark the beginning of sacred time – Shabbat – affected me profoundly. I’m thankful that Lauren has reminded me of just how hungry for Sabbath dinner I really am.

Noticing the Dissonance

Rev. Ellen Alston
I remember one day as a youth director when a prominent family in the church took me to the country club for lunch after the Sunday morning service. I listened as they spoke of their dismay that “Sunday Blue Laws” no longer existed, that the Sabbath was not being honored by the community at large, and I watched as no less than 3 different persons served us at the table of leisure, comfort, and abundance, made available only by the toil and work of others on that Sunday. I couldn’t help but notice the dissonance between our conversation and our context. I can’t help but notice the dissonance right now between my writing a blog about Sabbath while at “work” on no less than a half dozen urgent fronts, with no tidy end in sight, and whatever Sabbath rhythm I may attempt proving to be feeble at best. I notice the dissonance of my voice beneath an ashened brow singing “create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,” the dissonance between who I am and who I hope to be.
Thank God I am not the only one (or even the first one) to notice! Before I was even aware of the day, or the dirt, or the damage, or the destination, the One who made me was making note and making a Way. The One who flung the heavens and hung the stars, who sorted the light and the dark (resisting the laundry pun here), who sculpted mountain and valley and poured waters to fill and flow, who placed grass and trees and graced the land with buffalo and bees, who drew the garden and the breeze, notices the details and their dissonance: “Why are you hiding?” “Do you want to be made well?” “You are forgiven.” “Who do you say that I am?” “Love your neighbor as yourself.” “Follow me.”
…and continues creating, even, or perhaps especially, in the dissonance.
Create in me, O God, a place, a space, for noticing the dissonance. For then and there, a new creation begins…

Half-Ashed Wednesday

Rev. Matt Rawle

Several years ago while serving at the Duke University Chapel, the evening of Ash Wednesday was filled with electricity and excitement. Students had been lined up for hours. The student paper offered category-blurring commentary for weeks. Classes weren’t cancelled, per se, but only poor, unfortunate souls chose to spend their time in the library on that tense, anxious evening. Just before our penitential prelude began, ESPN’s Dick Vitale ran into the Chapel narthex saying, “I need the ashes, Father. I need the ashes.” Yes, it was Ash Wednesday, but it was also the evening of the Duke-UNC game. Like Dicky V, I saw students receive their ashes with a preoccupied posture just before exiting the chapel with time to spare, before the game and before the benediction. Neither life, nor death, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, would cause someone to lose their place in the line for the game. It was my first experience of a “Half-Ashed” Wednesday. Oh, I’ve seen a “No-Ashed” Wednesday for sure, but this was my virgin experience of such a holy worship service, which seemed wholly pointless.
If I may be candid with you, I’m a “half-ashed” Sabbath taker. I love the idea, but am terrible at the practice. Of course, it’s not my fault. For starters, I work on Sunday. I’ve also been working on Saturdays, and it’s my Saturday morning responsibilities, which give me pause as a pastor. Recently there have been a series of Saturday morning funerals in my faith community. Theologically it’s a moving experience to reflect on our loved one and Christ both being in the tomb on the Sabbath day, resting in the presence of God, but my suspicion is that Saturday morning is when most could gather because neither angels, nor principalities, nor honoring our loved ones will separate us from our work. With that stinging revelation said, it’s a double-blind, you see? Had I not been at church on Saturday morning, am I so pious to think that I would have been honoring the Sabbath at home? What better place to be on the Sabbath than in worship, remembering one who is now resting in God? But again, it’s not my fault. I’m really, super busy.
Except . . . it is my fault. Time keeps on slipping into the future (Thanks Steve Miller). According to Einstein, as an object’s velocity approaches the speed of light, the more slowly the object moves through time. In other words, the more quickly something is moving, the more slowly time moves for the object. I wonder if somewhere in my psyche I think that the more I work, the more slowly time will tick. Resting is the quickest possible way for one to move through time. Resting hastily propels me into the sobering truth of the ashes . . . my own finitude.
Practically, if I work hard enough and quickly enough, I will somehow earn my immortality. Theologically, if I work hard enough and quickly enough, I will somehow earn my salvation. Lack of rest is lack of trust in God. In my own little, screwed up world, I convince myself that God is not capable of making the sun rise or the rain fall without me, that the kingdom of God won’t grow unless I constantly till the ground. There’s a word for this . . . Idolatry. This is why the Decalogue (10 Commandments) begins by saying “I am God” (first three commandments), and remember the Sabbath. To forget the Sabbath is to forget the difficult truth that God doesn’t need us.
God doesn’t need us . . . but God wants us, and this is Good News. Even though the ashes give me pause in a sinful, shameful, fatalistic way, they also remind me that God has reconciled all things, that the ashes are a sign, marking us as a community of reconciled people (Thanks Ken). We are not fully living into our forgiveness as desired children of God being “half-ashed” people. So whether you are giving something up or taking something on, remember that the Sabbath requires both. By giving up ourselves we take on a true faith which cuts through the slippage of time with the simple and powerful refrain, “All shall be well. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well. All shall be well” . . . even when I’m resting.

24/6 Good enough for God

Rabbi Dr. Jana L. De Benedetti
B’nai Zion Congregation
Shreveport

Some people believe that the miracles in the Scriptures are not true – they are myths to help us understand a value system. Some people think that God is the crutch that others use when they don’t understand enough about something. Some people think that commandments don’t really need to be commanded, since humans could have worked these things out for ourselves.

I believe that being commanded to have a holy day of rest, proves that there is a God. What an incredible concept – work hard, and then take a day when you don’t work. Take a day when you can’t work. Make it a day when you don’t let anyone work for you – not even your animals can work. We couldn’t have invented that one ourselves. Even if we tried to make a rule enforcing rest, I don’t think we would have come up with the idea of making it every seven days.

Obviously – there is a God – a wonderful and awesome God who commands me to rest – every seven days. And now I have to try to understand what God means by “rest.” I have to try to understand what it means not to “work.” Now that I am certain there is a God, I would really like to do what God says.
There are a few ways to determine what God means. If we want to know what it means to “work” we can look in the Scriptures for every time the same word for “work” (mal’a-chah) is used. We find examples when we are commanded to build the Tabernacle, so we try not to build (or tear down) on Shabbat. We see that we are working when we are tending to our crops, so we don’t plant or sow, or harvest. In fact, we find 39 specific things that are considered work.

We also see that after the first Creation story God tells us that God rested on the seventh day. We realize that at that point, God’s work was to create. We don’t create things out of nothing like God did – but we could light a fire – there was nothing, and now there is a fire. We could write – there was a blank sheet and now there is writing. So we learn to avoid these things too.

Some people see the list of things we aren’t supposed to do on Shabbat to be restrictive and oppressive. I see it as uplifting and holy. It is a little bit like when you find a person that you fall in love with – there may be other options out there that you will no longer consider, because the person you found fills your heart. You could spend your time thinking about all the other possible partners out there, or you could spend your time appreciating the one you love.

In fact, the Jewish mystics teach us that one way to see Shabbat is as if Shabbat were a bride – and we are the groom. We spend our week preparing for our “bride.” We dress-up to greet her. We prepare a special meal. We spend the day thinking only of her.

I spend my Shabbat appreciating. I love Shabbat worship. I love Shabbat study. I love Shabbat rest. I never do business on Shabbat. I don’t have to worry about mowing a lawn, or doing homework, or housework, or any of the other things that may have been on my to-do list during the week. It will all be there waiting for me after Shabbat is over – or sometimes it loses its importance after I have gained a refreshed perspective.

The strangest part to me is how many people don’t take advantage of this incredible gift that God has given us. God even commands us, and many of us choose to ignore this “direct order.” It is for our own good. It keeps us healthy. It refreshes us. It keeps us holy. Imagine what the world would be like if we all obeyed this commandment. Start small, if you have to: Just remember to set it apart from the rest of the week in some special way. You will be glad you did. God obviously wants you to. Or as a bumper sticker I was saw says: 24/6… if it is good enough for God, it is good enough for me. I wish you a “Shabbat Shalom,” a Sabbath of peace.

And the journey begins

Our Lenten journey begins. This year we will be reading Mudhouse Sabbath by Lauren Winner. Grab the book, and join us for 40aystogether.