Fortnight – Day5: Joy #2

Fortnight – Day5: Joy #2

When I read that comedy clubs were not allowed to be open in certain cities due to the corona virus, I confess to being sad. This was a time when the good medicine of humor was needed. We had already lost the joy of choral groups singing together and now, now comedy clubs!

As we face the presidential elections what evidence is there that Donald Trump or Joe Biden might encourage joy? Too often, when a little lightness of heart might be a gift for our nation, we instead are offered a tour of potential fear and places of distrust. I am eager to have comedy clubs open again — even more — I am ready for congregations that help us know the joy of faith. For now, this may be limited to online worship.

There should be more laughter in our congregations; not necessarily the comedy club type but not excluding that either. This is a sign of liberation, of healing, of joy. (I am not speaking of what was called “Holy Laughter,” associated with the phenomenon known as the “Toronto Blessing,” popular a few years back. That always seemed to me to be contrived.) I am speaking of joy related to the everyday lives and troubles of a people… things that can be best spoken of in worship, with other believers. Some of the best laughter I remember occurred at a funeral.

I was reminded of an exercise on discovering more joyful living prepared for persons at a spiritual retreat. A copy is attached below.

The scriptures are filled with joy and rejoicing. There are parables of Luke 15, where there is rejoicing over the return of the lost sheep, the coin, the son. As Psalm 30:5 observes God’s intentions are that we should discover that, “Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.”

In the early 1980s I traveled with a group called Witness for Peace to the war zone between Honduras and Nicaragua. One evening we joined a group of villagers for worship. Even as there were distant rumblings from mortars exploding a few miles away, I was struck by the joyous character of the outdoor worship. There were songs accompanied by guitars and drums and tambourines. At one point in the liturgy a woman came to the center of circle. Barefoot, in a frayed, modest dress, she called us to prayer. She began, “And now we remember all the poor and suffering of our world.” It was a prayer of gratitude for the goodness of God. As the prayer ended, and the congregation shouted “AMEN,” a mortar shell echoed across the valley. It was as if in refrain. We all laughed. In that moment we saw the absurdity of war and violence so nearby as we gathered at the table of the Lord!

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Mary Oliver’s Mindful

Everyday
I see or hear
something
that more or less

kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle

in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,

to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over

in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help

but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light

of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?

“Mindful” by Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early, Beacon Press, 2005.

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From the Epistle of James, “My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” (Vs 1:2-4)

Bishop Judith Craig

Recalling Greatness: Bishop Judith Craig

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So many memories, joyful ones, of Bishop Judith Craig. That laugh — so often laughing at herself.  Those hands on your shoulder as she teased or counseled or intermingled the two and you didn’t realize you had been “schooled” until the next afternoon.  Those eyes — that voice.  That wisdom — cutting through the antics of clergy or lay person who would seek to damage the whole. 

I think of her as one always open to delight — she lived with an expectancy of something better.  And could she preach and pray — yes, my Lord, she could!  Losing dear Judy in this hour in the life of our United Methodist Church is heartrending.  I salute you, dear sister and beloved friend.  May perpetual light shine on you.

I remember how moved I was when Judy was the first woman to give the episcopal address for the denomination back in 1996.  She called for a church that could be bigger than the narrow bigotry that entrapped us.  She was unashamedly a champion of full inclusion of our LGBTQ siblings.

At the time (1996), I thought the church would make a transition to a more accepting and courageous witness quickly.  I was wrong.  It has now been over twenty years of regressive movement.  Twenty years of narrow interest caucus groups using the scriptures and our guiding documents as a blunt instrument of exclusion and harm.  How can the good news of Jesus have been so disfigured into another kind of news?  What hermeneutic can justify this push to separate and move away from one another in a time when the gospel is so relevant to a hurting world? 

We seem to have been “trading down” as a denomination for these two decades. Giving away our legacy, our commitment to loving acceptance for all. Open hearts, minds and doors of welcome has been replaced by a move for the withering of the church by exclusion.  It is fostered by those who build fences of fear and use the very resources and structures of the church against it. The church has lost a great visionary leader.  She was mentored in East Ohio by another great, Bishop James Thomas. They were of an uncommon kind.  I see them together — one testimony to our church at its very best.  Both were able to stand tall for justice and piety.  Neither would sell out for a false sense of peace.  I saw both of them stand tall in difficult circumstances.  Each possessed a wisdom that would not accept the ill-considered proposal, the seeking of unfair advantage of others, or the mean-spirited tactics of a caucus group.

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Mary Oliver

Judy’s death comes within hours of poet Mary Oliver.  Two women, two singular voices.  I wonder if they ever met?  Let me suggest that Judy offered us the poetry of a life-well-lived and of poetry-in-action. Or, as Mary Oliver might say, Judy “didn’t end up simply visiting the world.” She was indeed “a bride married to amazement.

 

I give thanks for the witness, the joy, the friendship of Judith Craig… I now laugh through my tears.  I have been touched by greatness and I know her expansive witness will endure and thrive in places we do not yet see, no matter the petty politics of the current United Methodist Church.