Learning Manners, and Navigating Them

While I am writing this blog, I am sitting in a coffee shop, which I will leave unnamed. It is very popular in a very home-y type of way, in comparison to the coffee shop across the street that wants to have that home element, but is just too mainstream to pull it off. I will also leave this coffee shop unnamed....though, I will mention its geographical origin (cough* Seattle).

The coffee shop I am in right now has a picture of Bob Marley, yummy pastries, of which I can not partake because I am fasting from sweets this week, and free internet with the purchase minimum of $1.70, the price of a cup of tea.

I love this coffee shop because they choose to set themselves apart. Instead of yelling your name or your latte of choice, they bring it to you....every time. The owner/manager comes in daily, and has this aura about her that makes you feel welcomed. There is a red telephone booth (for some, this is a dead giveaway to which shop I am referring to) outside, which makes me think of the U.K.

However, there are boundaries, a contract, if you will, upon entering into the contract of patron and barista. There are guidelines that are expected. For example, there is a sign when you first enter that has two bullet points

• Paid customers only
• No outside food or drinks

"We appreciate you business and respect..."

I think that the sign may have been put up after the experience of having too many individuals stopping in with food, or who thought they could free load off of the company's energy and not patronize. Also, when I first started coming to It's a Grind (there, I let it slip), there was no purchase minimum, but there must have been too many encounters where individuals were penny pinching on their purchases in (i.e. only purchasing the coffee refills for $ .50 for an internet code---which is highway robbery for a business owner). Therefore, Heidi has enacted the minimum purchase policy. I was alerted to this when I ordered a kids hot chocolate for a $1.60 and was told that there was a new minimum of $1.70 for the internet code, but that it was okay this time. I smiled graciously and went on my merry way with my internet code in tote. I didn't bother explaining that I was going to purchase fruit, later.... I am sure they've heard that before.

What I like about this place, is that there is always an element of grace and appropriateness in handling these new situations. We are not dealing with a mega-million dollar coffee company here, but rather with real people who, perhaps, very livelihoods depend on good business and considerate patronage.

My time here over the last few months have taught me a few lessons in manners, hospitality, and communicative grace (if that makes sense--essentially, the ways in which grace is communicated).

Lessons include:
*Being considerate---consider the other....more than yourself, even though this can get hard.
*Hospitality is best experienced unconditioned. If us patrons were made to feel guilty for all the times we may have made a few foibles---we might have been too shamed to come back.
*Grace should be firmly communicated, as well as refined by a process of discernment otherwise it might come off as reactive.

Common cup or common sickness?

Interesting article, your thoughts?

By LAUREN F. WINNER

In many Roman Catholic churches across the country, lay people no longer receive wine at Communion, and some Catholic clergy have advised congregants not to shake hands or hug at the moment of the liturgy known as "the passing of the peace," when parishioners typically greet someone in, and offer embodied signs of, the peace of Christ. In my own Episcopal parish, I was greeted by a neighbor last Sunday with an elbow bump. At a United Church of Christ congregation in the suburbs of Chicago, Communion servers now slice up bread into bite-sized bits before distributing Communion; they no longer offer congregants a loaf from which to tear a hunk of bread. In the interest of keeping fingers away from communion wine, communicants at All Saints' Chapel in Sewanee, Tenn., are now instructed not to dip their Eucharistic bread into the cup but rather to sip the cup directly, since hands are often more infectious than mouths.

At Cornell University, the Episcopal chaplain, Clark West, has reminded worshippers that they will receive the fullness of the Eucharist if they receive only "one kind"—that is, the wafer and not the wine. "We have alcoholics among us for whom this has been the practice for years without any noticeably adverse effects," quips Mr. West. To emphasize this, he has, on occasion, used a longer liturgical formula, which names the host as itself both "the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ." Less reverently, Mr. West has taken to calling the bottle of Purell hand sanitizer, which now sits prominently on the credence table, the post-modern lavabo. (A lavabo is the bowl a priest uses to wash his or her hands in the Eucharist.)

These liturgical modifications are, of course, all being undertaken in response to H1N1—or, perhaps more precisely, in response to fears about H1N1. But if H1N1 is new, American Christians' choice to let fears about hygiene and health shape Eucharistic practice are not. In the late 19th century, new knowledge about germs—and pastors' keen desire to be regarded as, in the words of one New York clergyman, "thoroughly imbued with the scientific spirit"—prompted many clergy, especially in Methodist, Presbyterian and Congregationalist churches, to set aside the common cup in favor of individual communion cups (think shot glasses).

That change did not come easily or without debate and old-fashioned organizing on the part of both clergy and physicians. In November 1899, the Brooklyn Pathological Society convened a symposium called "The Pathology of the Common Communion Cup." Doctors and ministers gathered to review what they knew of epidemiology and to urge the use of individual cups at communion. The ministers in attendance did not take much convincing: "My own feeling in regard to the common cup is one of positive repugnance," said one.

Those churches that did move from the common cup to individual cups lost something. They lost the imagery of the church's being, to paraphrase Paul, one body because we drink of one cup. Indeed, fin de siècle advocates for reform understood quite well that the changes they were making were not just about the health of people's physical bodies, but also about the ecclesial and social body. They urged adoption of individual cups not only because of new theories about germs but also, explicitly, because they were troubled by white, middle-class Christians becoming symbolically joined to other sorts of Americans.

Speaking at the 1899 Brooklyn meeting, Robert J. Kent, the pastor of Brooklyn's Lewis Avenue Congregational Church, made the leap from physical health and moral and spiritual purity: "I would not have the cup pass from the lips of the unclean to the lips of innocence and purity." An ear specialist present at the same symposium told a story of a (presumably white Protestant) woman who had made her home on the Hawaiian Islands for almost 30 years. This long-suffering woman and her husband were always served communion first at church, and, the physician noted approvingly, "had they not been, with the class of people who partook of the cup there, neither of them would have been willing to touch it in any circumstances."

Similar concerns shadowed conversation in the 1980s, when some clergy briefly considered whether, in light of AIDS, the common cup could be abandoned. In the AIDS debates, of course, the "science" that cloaked the desire to keep the wrong sort of people from the common cup was entirely faulty—the stated concern was usually that healthy people would perhaps contract AIDS from the cup, when, in fact, if anyone was put at risk by the common cup it was people whose immune systems had been compromised by HIV.

So far, similar tropes have not surfaced in today's conversations. Said Mr. West, the chaplain at Cornell—a community that has been hit particularly hard by H1N1—"I have not yet sensed any evidence of similar purity issues regarding keeping 'the wrong sorts of people' from the table." Though who knows what will happen if those folks from Penn or Yale show up.

—Ms. Winner is an assistant professor at Duke University's divinity school.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703746604574460981861432244.html

Hearing God

I found myself encountering the call to "Hear God" lately as I have come up on some critical transitions in my life. I will go ahead and share some of them. As I have been preparing for graduate school next fall, I have had to reevaluate my call, or vocation, rather. Am I called to be a professor? To write? To ordained ministry? Where do I stand denominationally? And so forth. I was in a position where I had to do quite a bit of praying, and almost an equal amount of listening. And to my surprise, God did speak and his voice was almost imperceptible, yet it was unmistakable.

Here is some advice I would pass along if you are trying to hear God. 1) Listen for God for the sake of listening for God...Crises should not be the only motivating factors, the goal is to regularly hear God and to regularly respond to God.

2) Move! If you have been given a direction, go that direction immediately.

3) Even when you have been given a direction, acknowledge God in each direction taken. Proverbs speaks of this. This becomes especially important when you begin to think about your purpose. If you have been in an "auto" mode, you may find yourself in a position where you are unable to think clearly about your purpose or goals...

Despair and Loneliness

Last night I watched Synechoche, New York, a movie about a man's journey and attempt to deal with the calamitous and lonesomeness of his life. This movie is about so much more, but this is one major theme of the movie. It is quite a brilliant movie, especially in the way that it calls viewers to be active participants in this story, pulling you into deep emotions that don't have pat answers or simple solutions. If you have a chance to watch it, I'd highly recommend it.

There are two themes from this movie that I would like wrestle with here, and that is despair and loneliness. I happened to watch this movie at a lonely point in my weekend. I had been feeling slightly existential the prior few days anyway, feeling like I've been searching and trying to come to terms with myself, my family, and God. There has been quite a bit of inner wrestling, while at the same time I have been trying to maintain my pace in getting goals accomplished.

Instead of running from this lonesomeness, I entered into it. I indulged it and entertained my despair, questioning and probing these feelings that seemed to emerge from nowhere and somewhere, both at the same time. Despair and loneliness, what do we say of these two feelings? We all have felt the pangs and if you have not yet, you certainly will at some point in your life, even if the feelings are fleeting---perhaps provoking you in that instance to notice someone else's loneliness and begin to feel compassion.

When I felt it this past weekend, it was an incredibly hopeless feeling, a feeling that weighed even my physical body down. I lacked zest and buoyancy. I felt inadequate. I began to ruminate on the lack of options I felt at the moment. It was incredibly subjective.

Like the movie, I do not have any pat answers for these terrible feelings. I just know that I know the feeling and that I can identify with other humans who have had these same terrible feelings, whether they were short-lived or prolonged. I know for some, life can seem incredibly unfair (throughout they movie, I would think of the biblical character Job when observing Caden Cotard's experience in SNY). It goes to the question of human suffering and death and pain....

My only hope in that moment on Saturday evening was that I knew I would be among a community of believers the next morning. I would be around people who are getting to know me---therefore those feelings of "unknownness"  will slowly diminish with time, as I get to know these individuals. However, it takes trust and engagement on my part to stay mutually connected. It takes me letting go a little bit of the community I was once a part of in a fundamental way (I'm speaking of being finished with college), and embracing the new communities that are beginning to emerge for me. Therefore, some of this loneliness is natural.

 Being a part of a community called together to do God's work gave me a little spark of something to look forward to in that moment. 

May the God of peace give you peace.

Trusting God

I don't have any in-depth thoughts about what it means or looks like to trust God, but I know it requires action on my part. It requires of us to get out there and get moving, going through and exploring doors that God may have opened and being relentless even when they shut, allowing your spirit to not be crushed when they do.

Today, I ran three miles.

Those reading my title may be thinking, "so? you ran three miles..." I thought this myself as I was formulating thoughts when the idea for today's blog first came to me. However, running three miles was a big thing for me today. I ran three miles on Monday---and then five miles each day throughout the week---and then today, on Friday, I ran three. I thought, "I already shortened my run on Monday, I really don't want to shorten it today."

 Here is the thing; I usually run 5-7 miles a day. Running is something I picked up my junior year of college, and I have been running faithfully ever since. Some time here soon, I hope to begin to run in road races (I'll let you know when I do). So the bottom line is, I usually run a lot. This may sound weird, but I felt compelled to only run three miles today, and when I say "compelled," usually there is an implicit "by the Holy Spirit" following the verb "compel". I wanted to keep going. I wanted to control my run, but I was curious as to the lesson that God was trying to teach me. So I submitted.

Running is an achievement meter for me. The more miles I accrue, the more accomplished I feel...I begin to think that I am someone to contend with or I just simply feel in control and that I have some sort of power over my life, my health and well-being. Of course, these are all good things. Confidence is good. Power over your life is good. Discipline is great. But... sometimes it's not. At least when it comes to the People of God, under the reign of God's Spirit. I think, perhaps, as far as I have discerned my encounter with today's morning run, that God was trying to remind me to lean in to him and to see myself as dependent on him. I think with me, I fear that my world will begin to fray like a cheaply woven top if I do not maintain control----so I am quick to make sure I am on top of things. However, God wanted to teach me a dose of grace this morning. For this I am continually thankful. 

Maybe there are some of you who do not have to contend with rigorous achievement barometers, kudos to you, for you probably maintain a sane level of life. But for those of us with abnormal amounts of ambition, I guess this blog is for you and for me. This morning I was prompted to avail myself to God's love and grace. I am sure there are several times where my sensibilities were too dull to acknowledge other times when the Lord may have been trying to do this, but it is something that requires attentiveness and follow-through. I hope somehow and in some way today that you would avail yourself also to God's love and grace.

Peace be with you.

The Options Are Endless

I once asked a friend why she enjoyed studying Literature. She stated that, in her experience, every time she read a great book or piece of literature, reality became more vibrant, more meaningful. Literature was a tool that chiseled away at misconceptions about life and it posited truths from various perspectives.  I was struck by the richness of her answer. In reflecting on my friend's perspective, I believe her answer relates, albeit in a roundabout way, to the Christian walk. Let me utilize a passage to illustrate this,

John 3

 ¹ There was a man named Nicodemus, a Jewish religious leader who was a Pharisee. ²After dark one evening, he came to speak with Jesus. “Rabbi,” he said, “we all know that God has sent you to teach us. Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.”

 ³ Jesus replied, “I tell you the truth, unless you are born again, you cannot see the Kingdom of God.”

 ⁴ “What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicodemus. “How can an old man go back into his mother’s womb and be born again?”

 ⁵ Jesus replied, “I assure you, no one can enter the Kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit. ⁶ Humans can reproduce only human life, but the Holy Spirit gives birth to spiritual life. ⁷ So don’t be surprised when I say, ‘You must be born again.’ ⁸ The wind blows wherever it wants. Just as you can hear the wind but can’t tell where it comes from or where it is going, so you can’t explain how people are born of the Spirit.” 

⁹ “How are these things possible?” Nicodemus asked.

How is it possible that we can see God and the unrelenting vibrancy of God's created world in fresh, new ways? It takes new eyes and the realization, that we have experienced the new birth in Christ, receiving the deposit of God's Spirit---the Spirit, which is like the wind (unpredictable), blowing where it pleases.

When you experience the new birth in Christ, you receive new eyes that allow you to see life differently.