these last days of Lent
ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there's a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in
-Leonard Cohen
Kester Brewin: Signs of Emergence
This book is tremendous. Drawing on his background as a math teacher, Brewin explores why the church is where it is and why it is to change...using complexity theory. This is a must read.
Edward and Lorna Mornin: Saints: A Visual Guide
This is a gorgeous handbook of the saints.
Peter Rollins: How (Not) to Speak of God.
Pete is an emerging church pastor of the Ikon community in Belfast, Ireland. I can't recommend this book enough.
Phyllis Tickle: The divine hours
Phyllis is one the smartest women I've ever met. I'm using this book for matins and noon prayer as well as vespers and compline.
Anne Lamott: Traveling Mercies : Some Thoughts on Faith
One of my favorite books of all time. She's pretty cranky and sarcastic too.
Eddie Gibbs: Emerging Churches: Creating Christian Community in Postmodern Cultures
Gibbs and Bolger spent 5 years compiling this book which relys heavily on interviews with emerging church leaders in the US and the UK. They seem to favor independant churches over denominational ones...so very little is said about us "loyal radicals"
Monica Furlong: Visions and Longings : Medieval Women Mystics
This is the book I recommend for folks starting to look into medieval Christian Mystics...a great introduction
Thomas Tweed: Retelling U.S. Religious History
This is a great compilation of younger scholars who are retelling the "grand narrative" of the history of religion in America.
ring the bells that still can ring
forget your perfect offering
there's a crack in everything
that's how the light gets in
-Leonard Cohen

I just spent the weekend on a retreat with The Urban Servant Corps in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The USC has been described as "The Real World" for do-gooders. The volunteers sign on to live in intentional community for one year while doing social justice and advocacy work at non-profits (homeless shelters, outreach to sex workers, English as a Second Language clinics, Legal aid etc..); in solidarity with their clients they also live in voluntary poverty for the year. Their expenses are covered and they get $75 a month for a stipend. For the most part these are young people who have just finished college. I fell in love with these guys. I was there to talk about emerging church and to learn from them about their experiences. The weekend was spent at a Lutheran Church and everyone just slept on the floor or in pews.
I have an old friend who lives in Santa Fe who allowed me to stay in the guest house of her father's property which she recently inherited. It ends up that this place is pretty famous. It's called The Carlos Vierra House, named after the artist who designed and built the house from 1918-1920 as a demonstration of a new style which Santa Fe is now famous for. It is for sale for $3.2 million dollars in case any of my readers are looking for a cozy little property in the American Southwest. I also got to see my friend's house outside of town which she is going to great expense to create as sort of a modern design opus (her home includes an adjoining chapel).
I'm still trying to process the distance between the two experiences of voluntary poverty and voluntary wealth, especially in light of Lent and my desire to look at my own habits around spending money. I'm not purchasing new personal possessions during Lent and am giving away one possession per day. Before you start thinking that I'm too spiritually healthy just know two things: first, this has been harder than I anticipated which means that I buy stuff for myself a hell of a lot more than I realized going into this deal and second, that I have failed. Not hugely failed, but failed nonetheless. I bought this Mary Magdalene magnet that says "Patron Saint of Fallen Women", and an icon of the Trinity. These purchases were justified as business related expenses. How funny is that? I guess what I'm getting to is that I cannot feel smug about tithing or living simply because when it comes down to it, I love stuff as much as the next gal. Just because I give away more than 10% of my income doesn't mean that I then am justified in buying whatever I want with the rest, moreover it doesn't give me permission to judge how others spend their money. Perhaps I could get away with the latter if I lived self-sacrificially, but in reality I don't.
I'm trying to remove the language of justification from my vocabulary. Why did I buy a 30 gig iPod last year with my birthday money (plus $80)? Because I deserve it? Because I tithed first and the rest is mine? Because I'd been wanting one for so long and since I waited it's justified? No. I bought it because I wanted it and I was indulging myself, pure and simple. Was it wrong to do so? Maybe not, but it sure as hell wasn't a virtue, which the previous justifications try and make it out to be. I guess I'm learning this Lent that I want to not only be more honest about why I spend money on myself but to also just do a lot less of it., this would mirror my values more. I never feel empty or regretful after giving money away, but I do after wasting it on stupid stuff, it's kind of too bad that I really love the stupid stuff! I want to be more like my sister who seeks to live extremely frugally so that she can be extravagantly generous. Gimme some of that!
Dear God,
Forgive me when I think that I deserve the abundance of wealth in my life. (we both know that If I did get what I deserve I'd be pretty screwed) Help my to not mask indulgence as virtue. When I am tempted to judge the wealthy gently remind me that to almost every other person on the planet I am the wealthy.
In Jesus' name,
AMEN

It's that time of year again. I love Ash Wednesday, it's my favorite worship service of the year...Easter vigil being a close 2nd. Walking around the world with ashes on my forehead makes me feel like I've just returned from another place and time and am walking through this life with an other-life orientation, not in the "I can suffer through this world because I'll have mansions and crowns and streets of gold in heaven" type of way, but in an up-side-down now and not yet eschatological way.
For each of the 40 days of Lent (and Sundays) I will strive to rid myself of one personal possession, and to not buy anything other than food and gas. The point is is that I love stuff, especially of the clothes, shoes, jewelry and yarn variety and I have WAY too much of it. Maybe by ridding myself of 40+ items I can create a space to breath deeper.
Dear God,
Help me look to you during these forty days and not to the false security of stuff. Forgive me for my inordinate love of things. Forgive me for my hypocritical judgments of other people's materialism and excess; when the truth is that if I had the kind of money they did I would likely buy just as much stuff. Save me from the pride of less and the pride of more.
In Jesus' name,
AMEN