Deep Reality

The Active Life: Wisdom of Work, Creativity and Caring by Parker J. Palmer

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars

Summary
Palmer posits that contemplation is connecting with reality and proper action must flow from and be true to that reality – the reality of who are, how the world is organized and the deeper reality of the Kingdom of God. In this way action and contemplation are inseparable. Each story or poem in turn shows the danger of action in conflict with reality or the beauty of action deeply embedded in reality.

Belief
Palmer believes that this reality is deep stuff. It is more complicated and varied than a cursory inspection may lead us to believe. To touch reality we must be prepared to wrestle and to suffer. With Annie Dillard, we believe we must “ride these monsters deeper down,” and there find the bedrock reality (30). The elements Palmer holds as true come from this bedrock place of depth. We are invited to take truths such as the necessity of suffering, the unknowing and weakness of God, the naturalness of the miracles of the Woodcarver and Jesus, truths that blow our minds – we are invited to take them and wrestle with them. This is important to Palmer because he believes that only by riding these difficult truths down into the darkness can we be lead to the bedrock that will provide foundation for our action.

Doubt
In my doubt I ask not, “Are these ideas true?” but “In what way might they be true?” I have a hard time wrapping my head around a God who doesn’t have it all figured out but hopefully acts. This view of God seems contrary to the declaration of scripture, that God is all-powerful and all-knowing. Tozer would suggest that a God who is not the superlative in all things, cannot by definition be God (Knowledge of the Holy). Palmer’s treatment of the Loaves and Fishes also draws some questions. He says he “does not demand a naturalistic explanation for the ‘miracle’ in this story,” like liberal theologians demythologizing the gospel (130). He is content with the mythos of the story, but his hermeneutic demands a naturalistic explanation (129). Palmer and Mark are slightly cross-purposes. Mark is developing his theme that Jesus demonstrates the breaking in of the Kingdom of God by the miraculous, where as Palmer wishes to show the breaking in of the reality of the Kingdom of God in the ordinary actions of people.

Synthesis
In terms of how we approach reality, the paradox between belief and doubt explored above can remain in tension. It is as we explore other angles of looking at God, scripture, Jesus and life that we see more facets of reality. While it is true that God is sovereign and wholly other, unbound by time and space, it is helpful in understanding the deep truth of his reality to explore God’s action in terms we can understand. In some mysterious way God’s knowledge outside of time and power over space is best understood by our finite minds as unknowing and weakness. In our contemplating the reality of the Kingdom coming to bear on the earth it is equally important to stand in awe of Jesus as wonder worker and recognize the presence of the Kingdom in ordinary action. The deep reality is difficult to explore and requires much stretching of the brain.

Application
Palmer provides a compelling matrix for discerning right action. I find myself more geared to contemplation just as Palmer found himself wired for action. He challenges me to find reality and disillusionment in my contemplation and carry that to action. I feel the conviction that my actions don’t often enough flow from that source. To often I am Chaung Tzu’s professional, working from reaction, creating places to show my stuff. I keep busy to have a sense that I am alive, laziness stalks me, I crave the intentional action flowing from reality.

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Adventures with Jesus in distressing disguise

Yesterday morning proved to be quite an adventure. I was heading to Farmington Hills for a Meeting at the district office. As I came to the one stop light in Sebewaing, I spotted a man holding a cardboard sign with a back pack and paper bag full of clothes on the icy ground next to him. This was, of course, Jesus, though he insisted on being called Kevin. He was a nice talkative fellow, with a closely trimmed beard, a knit hat and rosy sunglasses ready for a ski slope. His sign indicated that he needed a lift to Bay City. I could certainly take him there. He threw his things in the sliding van door and climbed in the passenger side.

He told me his Mom had committed suicide only half a year ago right in front of his eyes and he was still working that out, but his faith was getting him through. His faith helped him out on the road. He figured he'd make it to Bay City alright by the time his bus left. For my part I enjoyed the company (I always love hanging out with Jesus), and felt better about consuming the gassoline to get to bay city for two people rather than one.

When we got into town I took him to Brewtopia. His bus didn't leave until four, so he planed to meander around down town until then. He offered to buy me a drink. "Or," I said, "I could buy you a drink." After all how often do I get a chance to get Jesus a cup of coffee?

That done, we went back out to the van. He went to get his stuff out of the van, and I armed with a short quadshot americano was about to head on my way to my meeting when another man got my attention. Oddly enough this was Jesus too.

He had been talking to the other Jesus - Kevin asking him for some money to get a cup of coffee. Jesus-Kevin told him that he was Jesus too (that he was also in a position of need and that I had bought his cup.) So this new Jesus, his hood drawn tightly around his weathered face, saliva flecked on his lips and coating his teeth asked me for some change. He explained that he had only 29 cents and needed just a little more to get a cup of coffee. I reached in and turned the van back off. "Come on in with me and I'll buy you a cup," I said cheerfully.

"I am having such a fun morning," I told Aaron as he rang me up for Second Jesus' coffee.
"You're being altruistic today," he replied. "And you even get him the premium stuff!"
Of course! What else would I get for my friend Jesus. I love to share the best with my friends. It is a dream of mine, if I ever have the opportunity to find Jesus in the poor working the coffee harvests, to make them the best of the coffee they have produced. They should enjoy it, rather than the café con sangre they are allowed now. Jesus is worth the best!

Allegorical practical jokers

"Innocent Smith is not a madman - he is a ritualist. He wants to express himself, not with his tongue, but with his arms and legs - with my body I thee worship, as it says in the marriage service. I begin to understand the old plays and pageants. I see why the mutes at a funeral were mute. I see why the mummers were mum. They meant something; and Smith means something too. All other jokes have to be noisy - like little Nosey Gould's jokes, for instance. The only silent jokes are the practical jokes. Poor Smith, properly considered is an allegorical practical joker."

Ritual and liturgy really are the way we incarnate the mysteries of life. Isn't it then the call of all lovers of Christ to be practical jokers in the sense of Smith? Shouldn't all our lives be a charade to act out the love of God?

Master's Residency Retreat Reflection

I want to get arrested. I have always resonated with the actions of the apostles. “The apostles left the Sanhedrin, rejoicing because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name.” I want to be on the frontline addressing social justice, but at the same time I live in rural Michigan among working class people. I have to come to terms with what it means to engage in the fight for justice here.

While my community doesn’t see many homeless on the streets (if there are any I am blind to it) in many ways the people are subject to injustice. There is one factory that sits empty most of the time and struggles to stay open when a new owner takes it over. The last owners made good on a threat to close the plant if the workers unionized. The majority of people in my congregation are retirees receiving pensions from GM. The status of the auto industry and concessions the UAW allow affects their health insurance and incomes. A few of my parishioners are ex-cons faced with the difficulty of reintegrating in to society with the added strain of a jobless market. Our downtown is empting out, as business after business can’t make it. Our young families are either moving away or work in another town and don’t connect with the community or local churches. In very real ways some the work of social justice involves the people sitting in my pews and the people living on my block. How can I address these issues? Is there a time when I might be persecuted for making a prophetic stand against injustice?

Community

Reading Shane Claiborne’s book, Becoming The Answer To Our Prayers, I resonated with the new monastic concept of community. When my wife and I were first married, we ran across and article on theooze.com about singles and married couples with children living in community . We were intrigued and drawn to the idea. It has long been a goal of ours to live in community in a big house with people and start micro-churches. A number of years back I wrote a story and play for families based on 1 John 5 that was set on a moon colony. The moon colony was what I called a neo-monastic commune. My ideas about how that would work were surprisingly close to what Shane and the new monastics call the twelve marks of new monasticism.

In Acts just after the first account of Peter and John being released from the clutches of the Sanhedrin, the young church prays for boldness, the house is shaken and they are again filled with the Spirit. It is in that context Luke notes something interesting. “All the believers were in one heart and mind. No one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they shared everything they had.” I’ve always been able to almost feel the camaraderie of the community in the early church. I long for the relationships, the closeness, and the generosity that the family of God had then. It has been said by many that this kind of communism couldn’t be sustained. But couldn’t it really? Not as a social system but as the outflow of love and commitment?

There is an intimacy to worship. In a gathering that lacks community, lacks intimacy and the shared journey of faith, I have found myself distrustful of sharing my worship with others. I almost feel jealousy toward these others claiming to love my Jesus. In our retreat I did not have any of these feelings. I was surrounded by like seekers. Our journeys had brought us together on parallel tracks for a time. I could worship in true freedom and with an intimacy that comingled with the others in the room. This I think is the family of God!

My own cohort is especially a dear example of what the church is to be. Our love for each other is unfeigned and without condition. As much as I may cherish my worries about how cool or un-cool I am, how annoying or foolish I may come across my cohort expressed love for me that denied these concerns. This concern for each other extends in our sharing and praying for each other as we in real ways bear up one another’s burdens (and continue to do so as we are home).
My cohort shocked me with their love. I was embarrassed to tell them (as I am embarrassed to admit now) that I came to Philadelphia with empty pockets. The only transportation I could afford was catching a ride with the SAU team and committed myself to the added cost of eating and an extra night in the hotel. Elaine gave me her Christmas bonus from work, which we had picked up on our way, which paid for my food. When we got to the hotel I swiped my debit card knowing that it would cause and overdraft back home. I had to tell my crying wife that I was too ashamed to ask for help from one of my friends.

As we talked about the frustrations we had with our attempts at social justice, I related to my cohort that I was ashamed that my family was on food stamps and I couldn’t provide for them. Then I found myself telling them what coming to Philly had meant for my family. They prayed for me and that was all I wanted. It was a beautiful prayer that delved into the real concerns of my heart, the church and family I left at home. They didn’t stop there, however. They took up a collection! They provided me with over $300 and paid my way back home. I am humbled. As I write this tears well up at the realization of the love of the family of God.

It has been said at every residency retreat, “this is what the body of Christ looks like.” This is true.

The abandoned places

Whispered echoes keep coming back to me from the places the new monastic communities find a home – the abandoned places. Setting up shop as disciples in the abandoned places of the world seems dear to me. I think about my friends Steve and Roderick buying an abandoned house for a dollar in the desolate lesser cathedral district of Saginaw. As they fix it up and inspire others to move into the neighborhood, they are transforming the community.

I think about the abandoned downtown Sebewaing. Could fighting for social justice in my little town mean bringing life back to the downtown – life and hope? For a few years we (the local ministerial) have been working with the school district to better meet the needs of teens. We have started what has been called a movement to start a coffeehouse and restore a movie theater in downtown Sebewaing. The coffeehouse has been located in my church basement for the last couple years, but now, as we look to move it out into the public, it is exciting to see how God is moving. Could God be so interested in this project because moving downtown will somehow free the poor and oppressed in my village? I am excited to see that we are already engaging in the social justice fight and it has been just because we have been trying to follow the leading of God.
What about the abandoned factories and the abandoned houses? Is there any way we can begin to extend our household here? Can our church family begin to share resources, tables and lives in a culture that is so individualistic and independent? Can we share a garden? Tools? Food? How about sharing our spiritual journey? These are the questions that are fire to my mind this month, I pray the fire does not die but is fanned by those who ask the questions with me.

What would Michigan style espresso look like?

That is an interesting question. What flavor profiles do you associate with other regions of the US? I have heard the NW has its distinct profile that is brighter than most of what I really get into. I usually imagine the flavor profiles of espresso like an equalizer on my stereo. The bass tones of the deep body and the bright treble of the acidity create a picture with curves like the equalizer knobs.

For instance, the espresso I currently use in my shop is CBI's Panache Espresso Marrakesh. It looks like this:

When traveling in the mid west I discovered a flavor profile that was new to me. I had intense midtones that offered sweetness to the milk drinks, but were a bit too sweet for my ideal straight shot. This is what that looked like:

Some times that profile has a brightness playing on the high end (the blue line). I don't know if that profile is indicative of the midwest (I had it in two shops in Nebraska) or if it is a style borrowed from somewhere else.
As I thought about a flavor profile that would capture the terroir of Michigan, I thought that it would have to have the brightness of a cold winter morning, the growl of industrial machinery and the sweetness of Motown. As I visualized the shape that would make it seemed ironically appropriate:

Theolog: Charity, justice or both?

I have been looking for a way to play monopoly that would give us a chance to play with social justice principles here I found four! I still would like to find a way to roll it all in to one game the way that anti-monopoly introduces the concept of competition.

Theolog: Charity, justice or both?:

by Meg E. Cox

Recently, I was delighted when someone asked whether I still had instructions for an educational version of Monopoly I developed over a decade ago to illustrate various responses to poverty. I hadn't realized that the game was still in use after all these years.

Here's how it worked:

I divided a class into four groups, and I gave each group a Monopoly game with its own set of instructions.

Game One proceeded according to the usual rules.

Charity: In Game Two, one team got $200 each time it passed Go, and the other received $20—to illustrate a difference in income. When the team with low pay got into financial trouble, the higher-earning team was to help them out.

You're on your own: In Game Three, one team received most of the property at the outset, and the other team received just a few pieces—to illustrate a difference in wealth. When the team with little property went bankrupt, the game was over. (This happened much more quickly than in Game One.)

Jubilee: In Game Four, the property was distributed equitably at the beginning. Players could assemble monopolies and buy houses and hotels, but every 15 minutes all property returned to its original owners, along with whatever had been built on it in the interim.

The point was to provoke fruitful discussion"

Residency Day 5

Today I feel like my brain is full and I can’t learn any more. I need to take a break, or as Jerrell said to night, “I need some action…” then he added, “and then some time for reflection – praxis!” I feel like I need to get home and do something – bring hope to our abandoned downtown, find the poor to hang out with, get arrested for opposing injustice! Most important I want to get back to my wife and family and enjoy them. I love living in community with them and our desire to expand that community to others! Ella, Foster, Elaine, I am coming home soon, but not soon enough for my heart.

To relieve this tension, a bunch of my classmates and I went out again tonight. The conversation at the table was good, but the laughter in the packed car on the way home restores my soul!

Residency Day 3

Tonight Ken spoke about the connection between social justice and the charismatic movement. I wish all the A/G could hear that message. The world needs our prophetic and discernment that comes from Spirit Baptism. The poor need the gift of healing. The principalities and powers that oppress with injustice need to be torn down by our spiritual warfare.

After his message we had a charismatic worship time. He introduced me to some structures (liturgy) found in our worship that I hadn’t noticed before: the back and forth between the structure and spontaneous as we sing. The other new thing for me was a form of worship called “Harp and Bowl.” It is similar to lectio devina but in the context of sung worship. I haven’t been in an A/G church that has done this but Jerrell’s church has done it. I’d love to experiment with it.

I felt like my true self tonight. I miss a time of good Pentecostal worship and a ministry time employing the gifts. I received prayer for my sleep disorder. I am anxious to see how rested I am tomorrow. More impressively as Ken was praying for me the Spirit zeroed in on what is really at my heart, the people of my church. He prayed for us to have an awakening and a time of freshness and spiritual restfulness – that the people would receive what I preach and that a fresh anointing would fall on me to preach. He also prayed that healing would flow through me to my home, and my community. Yes Lord! Amen.

Residency Day 2

Tonight as we were talking about our frustrations and guilt about Social Justice, I mentioned that I felt guilty about being on welfare. I then shared with tears about the stresses of this week. My cohort prayed inspired prayers. Jerrell had a word of prophesy for me on the flight here, “You have been faithful in the small things and that is more important than results.” I am blown away by God’s love for me and my cohort’s love. They feel some leading to do something about our struggle, and are trying to figure out what to do. I am a blessed man.

Update: This morning when I woke up I found 200 dollars had been slid under my door!

Residency day 1

Today we arrived at Malvern Retreat Center. This place has some amazing sacred space. Turn a corner and you bump into a statue of a saint, as Mojo said. There is an Oratory in both the men and women’s wings. It is a prayer room, rather it is a room that upon entering you are immersed in prayer and must pray. The one on the women’s side has a vaulted ceiling painted in blue with stars. There is a chandelier/mobile in each that both mutes the light and brings the image of heaven. There are kneelers and marble floors. The men’s side evokes the image of the holy of holies. The doors are embossed in gold. Inside four golden pillars hold up a fiery canopy. Across the altar there is a tabernacle for the host. During the retreats put on by the center, the rooms are used for 15 minutes of adoration of the host by each retreating daily.

On the men’s side there is also a statue of Jesus featuring the imagery of his immaculate heart. I noticed this time that his heart is on fire. It is life sized on a pedestal. His left hand gestured to his heart. I could reach up and put my hand on his heart and his outstretched right hand was positioned just right to touch my forehead. It was so life like. I received his blessing; I put my hand around the back of his so to hold it to my head. I love you Jesus!

Tonight Mojo spoke about the road to Emmaus in preparation for communion. We repeated a collect as a refrain through out the service:

Lord Jesus stay with us,
for evening is at hand and the day is past;
be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts,
and awaken hope,
that we may know you as you are revealed in scripture
and the breaking of bread.
Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen.

He had us each take a stone to represent the burdens that accompanied us to the retreat. I thought of the financial burden that plagued Elaine and I as I left. She gave me fifty dollars, that was all we had. When we got to the hotel I had 15 left, and my heart sank as I approached the counter to swipe my card. With heavy heart I told her that I charged our bank account seventy dollars that wasn’t there.

As I approached I grabbed a sharp stone, one that as I pressed it in my hand hurt like the stinging sense of failure I harbored because of our financial situation as well as my weariness. As I looked at the stone it sparkled, it was composed of red and black specks. It was beautiful. “Uh Oh, I find my burden is beautiful, what does that mean.” As I listened to God I sensed his response. Your burden is painful as you clutch it in your hand, but when you release it to me it sparkles. I am strong in your weakness. You see my faithfulness through your troubles.