The Irreverent Reverend

News about women is dominating the headlines, and most of it isn’t good.

• Texas has just passed the most restrictive abortion laws in the country and other states have vowed to use their example to pass similar laws.
• The Taliban is wasting no time rolling back the rights of women and girls under its repressive regime in Afghanistan.
• A new document about the military reports 6,290 instances of sexual assault during FY 2020. This resulted in only 50 sexual offense convictions under the Uniform Code of Military Justice
• Mike Richards, Executive Producer of Jeopardy and guest host, steps down under fire for offensive comments about women (and Jewish people and the nation of Haiti).
• Governor Andrew Cuomo resigns amid multiple sexual assault and harassment allegations.
• Despite being accused by over 60 women, Bill Cosby’s sentence is vacated by the Pennsylvania Supreme Court.
• Other men accused of sexual harassment and assault include: Matt Lauer, Harvey Weinstein, Tony Robbins, Neil Degrasse Tyson, Brett Kavanaugh, Morgan Freeman, Tom Brokaw, Charlie Rose and the countless men who have not been held accountable for their offenses against women.
• Internationally 1 in 3 women have experienced physical or sexual violence. According to the World Health Organization that statistic has remained steady for the last decade.
• United Nations Executive Director for Women in Global Health, Phumzile Nerambo-Ngeuke, says it is “the most widespread and persistent human rights violation in the world.”
• Every 68 seconds an American is sexually assaulted; 90% are women.

This all translates into a war on women that is as old as time.

The Abrahamic religions (Judaism, Christianity and Islam) have historically been more a part of the problem than the solution. The tendency to proof text (take particular verses of Scripture out of context) has given a lop-sided view of how the Holy sees humanity and our responsibilities to one another. There are stories of violence against women in the First or Old Testament such as Dinah (Genesis 34), Levite’s concubine (Judges 19), Tamar (2 Samuel 13) and Jepthah’s daughter (Judges 11).

In the Second or New Testament there are verses about wives being subject to their husbands (Ephesians 5:22) and women remaining silent in the church (1 Corinthians 14:34-35). These verses taken out of context have had the historic effect of diminishing women’s agency over their own lives and putting religion in service of patriarchy rather than the Holy One.

Muslim Scholar and activist Sharifa Alkhateeb says the most abused verse of the Koran is ayah 34 of Surah 4: “Men are protectors and maintainers of women because Allah gave more to the one than the other…. Concerning women whose rebellious disloyalty you fear, admonish them, then refuse to share their beds, then hit them; but if they become obedient, do not seek means of annoyance against them. For Allah is Most High, Great.”

Yet there are narratives throughout the Testaments and the Koran that celebrate the strength and agency of women. These texts have long been ignored and it is time to lift them up as part of the witness of women in sacred texts.

The witness of Esther is about a woman’s resilience and resolve to not be humiliated and taken advantage of by her husband. The witness of Puah and Shiffra in Exodus 1 is a narrative of two women who refused to obey Pharaoh’s command to kill all male Hebrew children (Exodus 1:15-21). The account of the widow and the unjust judge (Luke 18:1-8) shows the determination and tenacity of a woman to not quit until she received what was rightfully hers. The account of Susannah (Daniel 13) is about the vindication of a woman wrongly accused by powerful men in her community. This book is not included in the protestant canon of scripture and may be unfamiliar to some. It’s worth finding a bible with the Apocrypha to check it out.

What the Abrahamic traditions have in common is that the entire message (not just those plucked out verses) speak to the integrity of all people. Standing against social norms to witness to the value of all people is a powerful message of the First and Second Testament and the Koran.

In Luke 4:18-19 Jesus quotes Isaiah 61: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Italics mine)

The account of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10 puts forth a message that it is our responsibility to stop and care for the victim.

Many Muslim scholars argue that the word translated “to hit” in the above verse is an error. Alkjateeb concludes:

“The wording of this verse emphasizes the woman’s obedience to Allah’s desires, and not to those of another human being, but those who misinterpret this verse would assign men the duty of being eternal surveillance police over their wives…. In short, this verse has been used as a tool of control and abuse completely opposed to the Islamic foundation of marriage and family.” (Journal of Religion and Abuse 1 (4):49-59)

For too long religion has been part of the problem and not part of the solution. As the war on women enters a new phase of escalation across the world, women and men of good faith and courage are needed to speak truth to power, to advocate for the powerless and to use the language of our faith to counteract poor translation, inaccurate interpretation and proof-texting.

Resources

The New York Times

The Journal of Religion and Abuse

National Electronic Network on Violence Against Women

Violence Against Women: A Christian Theological Sourcebook, Pamela Cooper-White, editor (1995)

Imagine that you are a recovering addict on a methadone maintenance program. Imagine too that you are in need of physical rehabilitation following serious orthopedic surgery.  What do you think are your options for care?

Since this is happening in my family right now, I can tell you that the answer to the question this: not many. The facility my family member ended up in is a hell hole. The food is barely fit for pigs. The physical therapy is non-existent; the care orders and prescriptions given at the time of discharge from the in-patient rehabilitation center are not followed. The facility is dingy, old and depressing. It is chronically understaffed. The ground she gained while at in-patient rehab is completely lost. This is what happens as a result of stigma and shame for people who struggle with addiction. No one wants addicts so they end up in the worst of the worst places.  

According to the Centers for Disease Prevention and Control, opioid-involved overdose deaths rose from 21,088 in 2010 to 47,600 in 2017 and remained steady in 2018 with 46,802 deaths. This was followed by a significant increase in 2019 with 49,860 overdose deaths.  

Since 1999 nearly 841,000 people have died from a drug overdose. This is the number of people in a medium size city. 

• Synthetic opioids (other than methadone) are currently the main driver of drug overdose deaths. Synthetic opioids account for 72.9% of deaths.
• Drug overdose deaths involving psychostimulants such as methamphetamine are increasing with and without synthetic opioid involvement.
• Opioid overdoses that do not lead to death are several times more common than fatal overdoses.

Opioid addiction is equal opportunity. It strikes women and men of all ages, socioeconomic status, education and income. In our rush to judgement we tend to think it happens “somewhere else” i.e. not in our community and not among people like us.   

As the pandemic dragged on fears were raised that already-rising drug overdose deaths could surge even further amid social isolation, economic stress and disrupted access to treatment facilities and providers. These fears were realized with a staggering 93,351 deaths in 2020.

Even though the numbers are rising, societal attitudes toward addiction and overdose have not changed for the most part. The judgement, stigma and shunning that happens to addicts and family members with addicts is stunning. The question people think but do not ask parents is ”what did you do wrong to make your kid an addict?” The question people think but do not ask addicts is “why can’t you get your s*** together and kick this thing?”

It would be wonderful to think that the church is a place where such judgement and lack of compassion doesn’t happen. Sadly, that is not the case. While there are some exemplary communities supporting people in recovery, the majority fail miserably.

Much of what we know or think we know is flat out wrong. It’s that simple. And to the extent that we are ignorant about the nature of addiction it is easy to sit on the sidelines and pronounce our seemingly morally high ground judgements.

Addiction is a complex disease that has many components. Life circumstance, genetic pre-disposition, emotion and physical pain are just a few of the things that impact substance abuse.  And who are we to pass judgement?

Judging others makes it impossible to love them. Above all, we are called to love one another.

It’s a good time to ask what Jesus would do. The gospels demonstrate that Jesus consistently reached out to the sick, disenfranchised and broken people of the world in which he lived. The gospels further demonstrate that Jesus was all about healing and restoring.  

That’s not to say that Jesus was all mushy and warm fuzzy. Jesus didn’t shy from the truth. Inasmuch as he spoke truth to power in his public ministry, he also spoke truth to those who were trapped in their own brokenness. The rich young ruler, Nicodemus and the woman at the well were people Jesus confronted with the truth.  It wasn’t a moralistic judgement passing, but rather a statement of truth and a call to wholeness.

During his earthly life Jesus also called people to community as a place to live out their growing wholeness. As Jesus’ people in the world this now falls to us. And the only way we can do this is by digging deep, routing out our prejudices and judgements and learning how to love as Jesus loved. It is something we never fully accomplish, but neither are we exempted from the command. It is the discipline of a lifetime.

As a parish pastor this phrase used to irk the hell out of me. I thought it was some sort of cop-out to not get up on Sunday morning. Or maybe they were disgruntled former church members who discovered the church was just as human as any other institution. Perhaps their family did not go to church when they were growing up, so there was no established habit or denominational preference. Perhaps they were so wounded by a church they couldn’t imagine ever returning. Perhaps they saw no reason to affiliate with an institution on the cutting edge of obsolescence. Or maybe they were just plain fed up with the church having little or nothing to do with Jesus. Whatever the reason I filtered it through the lens of trying to grow the church I was serving, and these spiritual but not religious types were not helpful. They did, however, come to the church when they wanted to get married, have a child baptized or have a funeral for a loved one. And of course the church opened its arms in welcome. Mostly we never saw them again.

More and more people describe themselves as spiritual but not religious. People probably have varying definitions of what this means; but what is consistent is that, for the most part, they feel no need to participate in institutionalized religion. I get it. There isn’t a church on the planet that isn’t screwed up in some way, some more than others. The church is a human institution and as such all the frailties and foibles of human beings play out in the life of the church. It can be crazy-making.

As someone who served the church all my life, I can also attest to the fact that churches can be the most loving, faithful, inspirational communities in the world. Churches are the institution God chose to be Holy hands, feet and hearts at work in the world.  When the church can get out of its own way and actually do real mission and ministry, it is an amazing thing. As Margaret Mead said, “Never doubt that a small committed group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” If more churches were actually living the gospel, the world would be a very different place.

Now that I am six years into retirement, life has changed dramatically. I am an unintentional recluse. I belong to the church of my childhood, about 90 miles from where I live. I didn’t get custody of my local church in the divorce. My attendance at church is spotty at best. I do miss the communal singing, gathering at the communion table and fellowship with people I have known all my life. I believe there is a part of the Christian faith that can only be lived in community.

I never thought I would say it, but truth be told I am becoming spiritual but not religious. Not being able to attend church means I have to find other ways to nurture my spiritual life and ground myself in my faith. It has broadened my sense of worship and deepened my understanding that everything is holy.

It is a holy thing to watch vegetable blossoms turn into tomatoes, squash, beans and cucumbers. Watching the birds that find our backyard a haven of safety is an act of worship. I am struck silent in awe by the beauty of a summer day or the ferocity of a storm. I am inspired by the words of others who make me think differently about what it means to be a person of faith. I keep a journal and have quiet time every day. I listen to music that feeds my soul. I have a deeper appreciation for my tribe, that small group of people who show up no matter what, on whose fellowship I depend and through whose love I continue to grow. Many of them are also spiritual but not religious, but they embody the Christian faith in beautiful ways.

My heart is broken daily by the suffering, pain and hatred in the world. Watching the news is almost unbearable. Like many others I feel helpless to do anything to alleviate their suffering. All I can do is pray they will have some sense of the presence of the Holy to sustain them. I don’t pray for God to fix it. We don’t give God to-do lists. We humans messed it up; we are going to have to fix it. If I were younger and healthier I would be on a plane to work in the refugee camps, but alas that is not an option. What I can do is work to make my little part of the world a better place and live the love of Jesus as best I can. As the old saying goes, “If everyone swept in front of their own house the world would be a lot cleaner.”

Turns out, for the most part I am doing okay without the church. Whodathunkit? Surely I never did. My idea of what it means to be spiritual but not religious may be unique, or maybe not. It works for me and no one is more surprised than I.

It is widely believed that Jesus said it is more blessed to give than to receive. In truth there is no evidence of that in any of the gospels. Still it is an expression we have taken to heart. Whoever said it (widely believed to be Paul in Acts 20) neglected to mention that it is also a lot easier. Giving makes us feel good. Making meals for a sick friend or working for a charity gives a sense of satisfaction.

Giving also feeds our sense of independence. It demonstrates our ability to manage our own affairs and help others with our resources. Having our own house in order feeds the “rugged individualism” introduced by Herbert Hoover in the late 1920’s and early thirties. It is now woven into the warp and woof of our culture. There is no question it is easier to give than to receive regardless of whatever blessing may come our way as a result.

This perspective also means it is pretty hard to ask for help, or to need help. It can be seen as a sign of weakness, some indication we can’t manage our own affairs. For the most part we hate to be needy. Some say that being needy when accustomed to being totally independent is humbling. I’m not sure that is the right word. Merriam Webster Dictionary defines humbling as, “to lower someone’s dignity or importance.” While it may be a feeling we have when we are needy, in truth this definition is not helpful.

Asking for help or needing help in no way lowers one’s importance or dignity. It simply means life circumstances have changed. These changes may be temporary or permanent. Either way it has nothing to do with dignity or importance.

What lowers one’s dignity or importance is being made to feel shame for being needy, being “less than” or being marginalized. What erodes dignity is not having access to what one needs. In our culture access and importance are assigned by social status, economic resources, education, productivity and a host of other false categories.

Our importance is defined by being human and being made in the image of the Divine. It has nothing to do with what we do, what we have or what we need. It is all about who we are. A better definition of being humbled comes from my favorite apologist Frederick Buechner, “True humility doesn’t consist of thinking ill of yourself, but of not thinking of yourself much differently from the way you’d be apt to think of anybody else.”

Humility has nothing to do with neediness, ours or anyone else’s. Another way of thinking about neediness is as an expression of interdependence. Interdependence creates a framework for shared humanity. Interdependence assumes we will all take our turn at being needy. It also suggests we have some responsibility to others when they are needy.

Most of us have some remedial work to do when it comes to asking for help. Looking at our assumptions and values around neediness is a good place to start. We all stand on equal ground in the heart of the holy. It’s a good place to start.

Perfection: “noun, the condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.” (Oxford Languages)

Perfectionism: noun, refusal to accept any standard short of perfection; “the need to be or appear to be perfect, or even to believe that it is possible to achieve perfection.…Perfectionism is not the same thing as striving to be our best. Perfection is not about healthy achievement and growth.” (GoodTherapy.org)

Perfection and perfectionism are two difficult words in the English language. The notion that we are able to be free from flaw or defect sets many people on a path of self-destruction in search of an unattainable goal. This is slipping over the line to perfectionism. After all, we are only mortal. This is the first bit of good news.

There is something to be said for striving to be our best, but that’s not the framework here. Surely every great stride in science, medicine, writing and all the arts have grown from the desire to be and do better. Watching the Olympics is a study in athletic excellence that pushes the human body to be its very best. Still, it is different from the pull of perfection that plagues and paralyzes so many.

There is a big hunk of religious baggage that attaches itself to the words perfect and perfectionism. In Matthew 5:48, these words are attributed to Jesus: “Be perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect.” As a kid I figured I was pretty much screwed as I had no chance of touching those words with a ten foot pole.

It wasn’t until I was in seminary that I learned that the translation of the Greek word to be “perfect” was complete garbage. I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe I did have a better chance than a snowball in August. The jury was still out.

The verse should read, “Be complete, even as your Father in heaven is complete.” The verse is an invitation to wholeness.  Being complete begins with the assertion that we are made in the image of God and that we are most complete when we live in a defining relationship with God. It means a relationship that supersedes all other relationships. Gratefully this is not a task to be accomplished in a proscribed time frame, say a week from next Tuesday, but rather a life-long journey that centers and grounds the rest of life.

To say it is unfortunate that the translating fathers (and yes they were men) messed up this verse is an understatement. It contributes to so many followers seeing themselves as total failures who have no chance of being anything else. Being perfect may not  be one of the Big Ten, but being attributed to Jesus gives it a bit more clout than the average Joe muttering it under his breath on the way to his lunch break.

We tend to give the “words of Jesus” a whole lot of power, so it really sucks when people get them wrong. Jesus invites his followers to be complete, to be whole. It is nothing short of a wholesale transformation of our way of being in the world. And luckily we have the rest of our lives to live into the journey, knowing we will never fully attain it. This is one of those times when the goal is secondary to the journey. This is the next bit of good news.

We are invited into an eternal waltz with the Holy One where life is changed and reshaped as a result of the dance. It teaches us to love creation and treat it with reverence and respect. No more throwing trash out the window. Doing a better job caring for the few square feet of land entrusted to us for the time being. It means remembering that, as the old kids’ song goes, “All God’s Critters Got a Place in the Choir.” It means paying attention to Climate Change and so many other things. This dance means we see all of life and all of creation as holy and if that doesn’t change us, I don’t know what will.

The dance of relationship also changes how we look at one another. It means we have to dig deep down and rout out all the places where fear and prejudice and bias cause us to see others as “less than.” All the “isms” that separate us, all the judgements we pass on one another, all the socially constructed definitions of what is acceptable and what is not, need to go. All we need to know is that all people are created in the image of the divine. It is only through relationship that we look beyond what is presented to see the face of the holy within another.

God’s eternal love affair with humanity is nothing more and nothing less than an invitation to completeness. The dance doesn’t change God, it changes us–little by little, day by day from today until the day we draw our last breath. It is the most glorious and humbling dance we can do. And the best news of all is that it has nothing to do with being perfect. Put on your dancing shoes, the Divine awaits your entering the music that grounds the essence of life.     

When the word cancer is used in the same sentence as your name or the name of someone you love, it feels like you have purchased a one-way ticket to the land of the hopelessly screwed. It takes some doing to get your brain and being around the news. As the word spreads there are those who tell the story of their second cousin three times removed who had exactly the same thing. There are those who give you the pity-puppy-dog-eyes. Then there are those who assure that they “know just how we feel.” It’s all well-meaning and utterly unhelpful. All their efforts belong to the world of “after.”

After is what happens when you can’t “unknow” what you now know. After is the forever gone delusion of the end being “out there” somewhere on the more distant horizon. After is the Big Worry that goes with all the smaller worries that are part of a devastating and frightening diagnosis. After is everything that happens after you know.

I know this because Jean was recently diagnosed with cancer. Yes, her prognosis is excellent. Yes, she is in the best hands in the world, medically.

Still, I want before. Before is the time when we had the luxury of not thinking our worst thoughts and indulging our worst fears. Before is the time when we knew in a cognitive way that we are mortal but didn’t think about it much more than that. Before is the time when there was no feeling we had purchased a one way trip to the land of the hopelessly screwed.

I want before. I want the innocence and carefree moments that will never be again. Our lives are forever changed because from now on there will be scans and poking and prodding and bloodwork and doctor visits and all the things necessary to assure the disease has not returned.

As I was mulling all this over in the anxious and scared parts of my being, and as we talked about it and sometimes around it, it occurred to both of us that while everything has changed, nothing has changed.

We still practice the spiritual discipline of being present to the moment. We still trust in the Presence to guide us from where we are to whatever comes next. We still trust this is enough. It is the spiritual discipline of a lifetime to be truly present to the moment. The more we practice it, the less fear and anxiety rent space in our being.

Being present to the moment, even if the moment happens to suck, holds the promise of seeing the sacred in the midst of the fearful, the holy in the midst of the uncertain. It reinforces what I know in my bones; all we have is the present moment. It is the gateway to the peace that passes all understanding.

This peace is pure grace. It is not something we can will. It is not something we can wish for. It is not a fruit of believing all the “right” things or being “good enough.” It is simply a gift that comes when we live fully into the moment, no matter what the moment holds. It is a gift that comes when we hold on to the promise that we are ultimately in Good Hands. It is believing it will be okay, no matter how it turns out. I am not always in that head/heart space. When I am not, it is because I have allowed my fears and anxieties to run into the unknown and it is crazy making. But at the end of the day, I believe our lives are held by grace, that God is faithful because God can be nothing else, and that the bonds of unshakeable Holy love are the foundation on which all of life is built.

This has been true since time immortal. It is all the “before” I need.

A favorite old hymn to share:

Great is thy faithfulness,

God my Creator.

There is no shadow of turning with thee.

Thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not,

As thou hast been, thou forever wilt be.

Great is thy faithfulness, great is thy faithfulness

Morning by morning new mercies I see.

All I have needed thy hand has provided,

Great is thy faithfulness,

Lord unto me.

Listen Here

 

I look out the window a lot. It’s nothing new, I’ve been doing it most of my life. It’s not something I do out of boredom, perhaps with the exception of Mr. Kopel’s 10th grade algebra class. I look out the window because there is light or there is darkness. Both have its lessons.

 

When I was a kid, I would move the shade aside to peek out the window. Just after dawn the lake was like a mirror. Pine trees were reflected in the water; our old wooden row boat was painted on the surface of the water; it was magical to me. I would sneak downstairs and sit out on the porch. Gradually the light became brighter, the mirror image of the lake disappeared and another day had begun.

 

It’s how I learned about hope.

 

I’m not sure I knew how to name it at the time, but there was something profound touching my being as I watched night melt into day. Even on the cloudy days when I couldn’t see the sun, there was light. It fascinated me in my being, not just in my head. For millions of years this ball of fire has gifted its light to the earth. Day after day after day it shines, more predictable than just about anything else. 

 

Every morning the sun gently pushes down the night and tells it to wait its turn. Every evening the night reaches out to draw down the sun; it has waited its turn. This rhythm is a reminder to me that nothing lasts forever. It is an insight that holds great joy and great sadness.

 

In times marked by unbearable struggle, profound depression, catastrophic illness and severe injury, I look out the window and know that daylight will come. Nothing lasts forever. This isn’t some Polly-Ana crap that makes any of the pain less real or less devastating. It’s a reminder that I’m not in charge (always a newsflash, I keep forgetting). I don’t believe for a minute that God sent any of this junk into my life for some greater purpose. Let’s get that crappy theology out of the way right at the start.

 

Looking out the window at the light reminds me that I am not in charge and that’s okay. Actually, it’s a good thing. The rhythm of night and day ground me in a loving energy that is the very heart of the Divine. It is the best definition of hope I can think of. The steady unfolding of times to see and times not to see remind me that while I may be paralyzed by what is happening in the moment, it won’t last forever. I look out the window and see the light. I look out the window and see the dark. Neither lasts forever.

 

The dark is comforting in a different way than the light. It acknowledges the reality of whatever I am going through in the moment. And it doesn’t try and change it or fix it. It simply allows it to be. I grow weary of well-intentioned people who are all sunshine and light. They are the poster children for Annie’s theme song, “The Sun will come out tomorrow.” When the darkness is thick around me, let me be in the darkness. Come sit with me in the darkness. I know nothing lasts forever but it lasts for right now and hearing shallow platitudes is not helpful. Rare is the person who knows how to sit in the dark with another.

 

I look out the window. If it is light and the sun is shining I watch how the light dances on the trees and casts its shadows on everything that blocks its way. If it is night I look at the depth of darkness and listen for its comforting company. Sometimes I relate to the sunshine. Sometimes I relate to the darkness. When I am in the light, I am reminded that at some point darkness will come, and it will be okay. When it is dark, I know the light will come and it will be okay. Nothing lasts forever, and therein is my gift of hope.

On May 19^th I fell off the tailgate of my pickup truck. I broke both legs in multiple places and sustained severe soft tissue damage. After two surgeries and five days in Intensive Care I was transferred to a rehab facility where I spent another two-plus weeks. Thus, the Irreverent Reverend was missing in action for a few weeks; but I’m back, a little the worse for wear but back nonetheless.

Such accidents occasion reflection. For example, life can change in an instant. Exiting the tailgate of a pickup truck is something I have been doing all my life. This time it went horribly wrong. Sometimes life is what happens when you are making other plans.

Many well-meaning friends and healthcare workers were quick to state that, “everything happens for a reason.” They posited that this accident had some larger purpose in the eyes of the divine so that I might gain some kind of insight.

I don’t buy it for a minute. God did not send this to me as some sadistic lesson on _______; fill in the blank. God was not offering a cosmic commentary on my human experience in the hope that this clueless human would manage to get it, whatever “it” is. I think this makes God into a real creep.

On the other hand, neither did God intervene to save me from my klutziness.  No giant magic hands appeared to catch me and cradle me to the ground so I might avoid injury. I heard no trumpets signaling the suspension of the laws of gravity for my singular benefit. If God were to protect everyone from personal disaster, God would have quite a job—protecting little Jimmy from crashing on his bicycle or saving Mary from a rear end collision because she was looking at her phone. The opportunities for divine intervention to save people from themselves are endless. I dare say such suspension of the laws of nature would result in utter chaos around the globe.

Here’s the reason my accident happened: GRAVITY. It is Newton’s first law of motion. This law states that an object (my body) will remain in motion until acted on by a force (the driveway). As a result of such an outside force acting on the object in motion, the object’s movement in changed (stopped dead with a splat in the driveway).

There is no mystery here. It’s simply the law of gravity proving itself in a moment of klutziness and misstep.

Instead, God’s presence was revealed in countless other ways. Neighbors heard me screaming for help and came to my aid. One neighbor who is a nurse got a towel to rest my head on and helped me calm my breathing. Two other neighbors stayed by my side calling 911 and calling Jean to come home right away. They all stayed with me until the rescue came and Jean got home. Later, they returned and finished the job I had started when I fell. I only knew one of these neighbors, but in those moments they were the very face of God. In the ambulance I wept with gratitude for their presence and care, as well as for the ambulance staff who were comforting and encouraging. There were countless other epiphanies in the following days. The surgeon, nurses, aides, dietary and housekeeping staff were unfailingly kind and competent. Later in rehab I again encountered the very face of the divine in those who cared for and encouraged me to begin the first hesitant steps toward recovery.

Sometimes we are so busy looking for God in a burning bush we miss how God shows up in a glowing twig. Waiting for a manifestation of the divine in trumpets and fanfare, we can miss how the holy shows up in a handclasp and the still small voice of calm.

The notion of the earth as our mother has been around for ages. The earliest references reach back to Greek transcripts that date from the 12^th-13^th century BCE. These texts refer to earth as “maga” or “mother gaia.” The roots began with pre-Socratic philosophers and were strengthened by Aristotle.

Many cultures embrace the notion that “nature” has its own spirit and power separate from God. In Native American traditions earth mother is a feminine expression of the divine, a womb from which all of life emerges. This image holds great attraction for many as concern about the increasing degradation of the environment threatens the stability of the planet.

In the environmental movement sayings like, “care for your mother” are common. Mother earth or mother nature is seen as a reference to the environment as a whole. In typing this blog the auto correct prompted me to capitalize both mother and nature as if they had some divine status. Listening to the weather the other night, the meteorologist described a pattern of unsettled weather stretching into the following day as mother nature’s “moods.” The long history of likening the created order and its weather patterns to mother nature conjures an image of a housewife with PMS. It’s another way to make negative inferences about women and indirectly place blame for increasingly erratic weather patterns.

More importantly, however, it is really bad theology. The earth is NOT our mother. In the Judeo Christian tradition the earth is completely the generative activity of God. In Genesis 1, the world is created by the Word of God. It’s important to say that the creation narratives were never meant to be taken literally. Throughout the stories of the First Testament, it is clear the Hebrews borrowed stories from the cultures around them and added their unique theological perspective. Most importantly, that meant one God and one God alone who is the author and creator of all that is. To suggest that the earth has an identity separate from God comes dangerously close to a kind of polytheism that assigns the earth divine status separate from God. It is blasphemous.

Pantheism is a kind of polytheism that says everything is God. Panentheism is a monotheistic perspective that maintains that God is in everything because God is the creator of everything. All the created order bears the fingerprints of the Creator.

The earth is not a being alongside God that has its own generative power. In every way, the earth is subservient to God as a creation of God. It means that the earth is our sister. We stand on similar ground both literally and figuratively as creatures of the Creator.

Shifting our language to speak of the created order as God’s creation is an important first step. Creation is not an overtired, overworked, grumpy mother and housewife with a bad migraine and a case of PMS. The earth is our sister. We are made of the same stuff, dirt and stardust, water and light. Like every other living creature, we are planted and nurtured in the rhythms of life and take our place in the created order as stewards and caretakers.

This rich created order is the gift of God for the people of God. We are to be its stewards: holy gardeners who care for the earth. Biblically, to be a steward means to consciously use and manage all the resources God provides for the Glory of God and the betterment of creation. The central essence of the biblical world view of stewardship is managing everything God brings into the purview of humans in a manner that honors the Divine.