The Beggar's Bowl

One of my favorite things to do in worship is breaking bread with others. It reminds me of my youth. I grew up in a house full of children and adults. In fact there were 14 folks that called my home, home as well. My grandmother and aunts never meet a stranger and never turned a hungry or lost soul away form our table.

This is one of the passions I bring with me to Douglass Blvd Christian Church. I love gathering folks together around the table in fellowship. We, as Disciples, are not strangers to a weekly table celebration. We gather at the Lord’s Table every week. We are renewed and transformed in mind, body, and spirit as we welcome all to the table.

The table along with the font are the primary sacraments we hold in our faith to be representative of the call of the Christ. We hold that we are unworthy of coming to the table. Yet, we come to the table with grace on our lips and forgiveness in our hearts as we seek to draw nearer to the one we call Christ.

We come to the table on instruction of Jesus. In the same manner to which Jesus served his disciples on that night he was betrayed. We to “take and eat” remembering that Jesus will come again.

It was in this spirit that I hoped to create a space where we as a faith community may draw nearer to each other in Christ and break bread together in a weekly fashion. Doing so I hoped we would strengthen the bonds of family and invite our family and friends into this peaceful storm of togetherness.

The first week of June we set out on a grand experiment called, The Beggar’s Bowl. We booked Monday nights for our adventure in faithful being. We purchased a share of local produce from Grasshopper’s Distribution and set out to cook a creative, organic, locally grown meal for under $3.00 a person.

On that first night we hit a few snags. Meredith bailed me out because I had no idea how to cook kale. We had 8-10 people on that first night. We invited folks to be guest chefs and share with us their culinary daring. The next week we got a little better at cooking and a few more folks came.

By the end of July we had an average of 25 people attending on Monday nights. We made a banner and invited the community. We had homeless fellas stop on by to share a meal with us. Folks from the local community would stop on by and share a meal with us. Every week a new chef blessed us with a delicious local meal. We had exotic meals from Africa, Germany, the Pacific Islands, Thailand, and even Mexico!

In a matter of a few weeks we were averaging 30 people every Monday night. People brought their children and all of the kids played in the Robsion Center as the adults shared stories of their days and enjoyed the company of others.

It was a wonderful event. I looked forward to Monday’s and the joy they brought with them. Rain or shine we would gather together and break bread. The table we shared together there was most defiantly transforming those present.

Sadly, we celebrated our last night together this past Monday night. As we shared this final meal I was struck at how intertwined we had become over the course of these few months. I began to mourn the loss of these Monday nights.

I could not be more pleased at the success of this adventure. It began with an idea and the hope of gathering together at a common table and it became an extended family for me an those that shared n those moments. I am thankful for all that came and all that served. I pray we can do it again in the spring. I invite you all to bring a bowl and gather at the table with all of us beggar’s at the Beggar’s Bowl.

Peace be with you all.

Here is the recipe from the last meal at Beggar's Bowl this year.

Curried Sweet Potato Stew

Ingredients

3 medium sweet potatoes

4 Tbsp of olive oil

1 brown onion, chopped

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 stalks of celery, chopped

1 Tbsp of garam masala*

1 tsp of curry powder

1 tsp sea salt

5 cups of chicken or vegetable stock

1 cup of coconut milk

1/2 cup of water

Curried sweet potato soup with coconut milk is a staple during the cooler months. The creamy, aromatic soup has a subtle sweetness from the roasted sweet potatoes. When making a sweet potato soup I always insist on first roasting the sweet potatoes to enhance their caramel flavor.

*The spices used in this recipe are curry powder and garam masala. Garam masala is simply a blend of warm spices commonly used in Indian cuisine. If you’re unable to find it at your local store, simply substitute it with extra curry powder.

Procedure

Pre-heat the oven to 350F (180C). Slice the sweet potatoes into 2 inch rounds. Place potatoes in a baking tray and drizzle with 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season with a little salt. Bake for 1 hour or until tender. Remove from oven and set aside to cool. Meanwhile, in a large saucepan, heat the remaining olive oil over a medium heat. Add the onion and celery and fry, stirring often, for 5 minutes. Add garlic and fry for 30 seconds. Add garam masala and curry powder. Fry, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, for 30 seconds. Remove the saucepan from the heat.

Scoop flesh out of sweet potatoes and discard the skins. Place potatoes into the saucepan and stir well to coat in spices. Add stock and bring to the boil. Turn the heat down to medium-low and cover. Simmer soup for 15 minutes. Remove soup from heat and cool. Ladle soup into a blender or food processor and blend in batches until smooth and creamy. Place soup back into saucepan on a medium heat. Add coconut milk and water and stir well to combine. Simmer soup over a medium heat for 5 minutes.

Divide soup into bowls and serve with a slice of crusty bread for dipping.

Marriage Equality

Check this out. Of all the stories I expected to read in the NY Times this morning, this wasn't among them. I was actually under the impression that Ted Olson was a passenger on the plane that hit the Pentagon on 9/11, but I guess I just dreamt that.

Substantively, Ted Olson's position shows that the case for marriage equality under the law is distinct from the messier issues arising out of societal discrimination and inclusion. Of course, law can act as a lever for creating movement in society, but as the case of Roe v. Wade and abortion shows, it doesn't always resolve social and political disputes. It also exposes the utter emptiness of labels like "judicial activism" when it comes to the Supreme Court. Unless we mean to turn back the clock before Marbury v. Madison in 1804, we have to recognize that judicial review entails that sometimes the court has to fill a vacuum in constitutional jurisprudence-- i.e. "make law." The dispute is not over whether this should happen, but rather over how the court should exercise that power, and on behalf of whom.

For another take on marriage equality I highly recommend, see Martha Nussbaum's excellent article here.

be gloriously silent...

I have been thinking a lot about what I believe. Perhaps, that I may hide from my convictions that I am a wolf in Christian clothing. For all intensive purposes, I have no right to be in ministry.

I hold so many biases that one could open a bizarre with my prejudices and misgivings of people. I clam to be a pretty open fellow. The more I question this idea that more I realize that I am a messed up mucky muck kind of guy.

The middle of last year Mere and I moved to Louisville, in an area that has a large African-American population. Our building had ten apartments with two occupied by Caucasian families [us included], two were vacant, and the rest were occupied by African-Americans.

I grew up with Hispanics, Asians, and Caucasians. I had very little exposure to African-Americans. Elementary school I had no African-American friends. In middle school I had a few African-American friends, none of whom came to my house nor did they live in my neighborhood. In high school I had maybe a dozen close friends that where Africa-American that I played football with and spent quite a bit of time with. I never went to there homes. I never entered their neighborhoods. I never entered their world. It was always on my terms, my space. I was at advantage in the relationship.

College, university, and seminary I had a sparse encounter with Africa-Americans. It may have a lot to do with the institutions I attended. They were largely Anglo funded and fueled, geared towards Anglo institutions.

I would not have identified as racist in any of the above situations. I kept my nose clean. I made sure what I thought was never used to impact a situation or event. I made sure to seek out quality friends and meet quotas so that I could not be accused of racism. I jogged on in life blissfully unaware that I am a much larger part of the problem that I imagined.

I arrived here with my partner, my new life, my new chance at life. We arrived excited and ready to forge ahead and claim our stake in the American dream. Only one snag…we live in a totally foreign context from what either of us are used to. We arrived in that building and we were surrounded by booming hip-hop music, tricked out cars with giant rims, and a sea of black faces.

With all of this “difference” surrounding me here I begin to question my reactions. Would I feel safer if all of the music, clothing, language, and relationships involved a white face? I am afraid my gut reaction would be, yes. If I saw a sea of faces that looked like me I would feel safer. I write this realizing that my every move is routed in classism, racism, sexism, and elitism. I am deeply part of the problem and it hurts.

I am part of this problem even if I have never actively subjected others to injustice. Systemic injustice takes from some to give to others. Systemic injustice perverts the beauty of Gods creation as it creates “us” and “them.” Systemic injustice can only be destroyed when we all become aware of its presence and are moved to act. This is at the core of the gospel message.

We cannot begin to understand the radical nature of the Gospel until we understand the insurmountable action it demands from us. St. Francis of Assisi said “Proclaim the Gospel always, and use words when you must.” It is my conviction that I far to often speak when I should be or do. It is my prayer that one day I may be gloriously silent as injustice retreats from the light of the gospel proclaimed.

Groups and Authority Claims

Derek's Pastor's Class this past Sunday continued the topic of functional prerequisites for the existence of social groups. I found myself thinking of that class when reading William Burroughs's Naked Lunch. Scattered among the drug-addled scatological passages we find the following gem:

"Democracy is cancerous, and bureaus are its cancer. A bureau takes root anywhere in the state, turns malignant like the Narcotic Bureau, and grows and grows, always reproducing more of its own kind, until it chokes the host if not controlled or excised. Bureaus cannot live without a host, being true parasitic organisms. (A cooperative on the other hand can live without the state. That is the road to follow. The building up of independent units to meet needs of the people who participate in the functioning of the unit. A bureau operates on opposite principle of inventing needs to justify its existence.) Bureaucracy is wrong as a cancer, a turning away from the human evolutionary direction of infinite potentials and differentiation and independent spontaneous action, to the complete parasitism of a virus."

One of the functional prerequisites we discussed was the "preservation of order." We didn't really explore the topic, but it sounded like the preservation of order involved something like the kinds of claims to authority traditionally made by states. Certainly it wasn't anything like the "cooperative" Burroughs describes above.

Is a cooperative in Burroughs' sense possible or desirable? To what extent could a religious body like a Christian church function as a cooperative in this sense?

Sunday, July 19

Hey folks! In an act of shameless self-promotion, I want to announce that I will be subbing for Rev. Derek this coming Sunday (July 19) as teacher of the adult Sunday School class that meets upstairs at 9:30 am. After consultation with Derek, I will be leading us in a discussion of theories regarding the relationship between God, religion, and morality. My understanding is that I may be doing this for multiple Sundays, depending of course upon class interest and Derek's desire to have us discuss other topics upon his return. I encourage all of you to come, not because what I have to say is all that interesting, but because our group of regulars never fails to make our discussions lively and exciting.

As a starting point for our exploration of the relationship between God, religion, and morality, I intend for us to spend this coming Sunday considering divine command theory. If you have never heard the phrase "divine command theory," I trust that once you get the basic idea you will find it immediately recognizable. It is, in fact, one of the most common positions ordinary folks take on the relationship between religion and morality (at least in places like the U.S., where monotheisms are the predominant religions). Many of you are aware that the theory has significant problems, but regardless of where you come down on it, we all have something to learn from stopping for a while, getting together, and taking the theory seriously.

I encourage all of you to come and join our discussion!

Crying Babies and Broken Carpenters

            “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them” (Isaiah 11:6).

            “Most people today, whether or not they believe in God, think that God is about power and that power is about the domination of others, through violence if necessary, just as human success is about wealth and career advancement and national greatness is about military triumph” (William Placher, Narratives of a Vulnerable God, 4).

            Bio-terrorists.  Bunker-busters.  Attack helicopters.  Speak softly and carry a strategically big stick.  It’s a dog eat dog world out there.  Don’t go looking for fights, but be sure you don’t back down from any either.   One of the chief criticisms of President Obama’s speech at the University of Cairo centered on his refusal to exercise power when dealing with a potentially hostile Muslim audience.  To admit past failures on an international stage is thought to be a projection of weakness.  The thinking seems to be that if we’re ever going to whip these Muslims into shape, we better make sure they know who’s calling the global shots.

            Strength.  Power.  Might.

            Look in a magazine to any advertisement for the good life.  What do you see?  Floridians on oxygen?  No.  You see young, tanned folks frolicking wherever it is that young, tanned folks frolic.  Six-pack abs and square jaws make it abundantly clear that it isn’t you who’s making the rules; it’s people named Lance and Margo, people with healthy investment portfolios and the appropriate degrees on the wall.

            We know what success looks like.  The images are ubiquitous.  It’s all about power; and we modern folks know where the power is located—and it ain’t located in Shawnee, or Watts, or Appalachia.  If you want to get anything done in this world, you’ve got to have the juice and you’ve got to know where to find it.  Which is why Christianity must always appear so weird to the world.  Christianity worships at the altar of a God who, rather than throw thunderbolts from the heavens, deposited a wrinkled bundle of skin in a feed trough.  How are you going to make that look good on Entertainment Tonight?  You wouldn’t last five minutes on Meet the Press with that strategy. There aren’t any sunglasses, no bronzing gel, no overweening paparazzi; there aren’t any thousand dollar suits, no power ties, no manicured hands, only a few raggedy, bottom-of-the-food-chain shepherds, and an assortment of livestock. 

            God became like us.  In a world of upward mobility, God always seems to be moving in the wrong direction.  And that’s why the incarnation is such a scandal: it is the audacious declaration that the God of the universe privileged weakness as the ultimate display of power.

            We thought that “God is about power and that power is about the domination of others, through violence if necessary.”  The gospel reorients our thinking to life in God’s kingdom by redefining power through reference to a new reality in which “a little child shall lead them.”  Our expectations of God’s overthrowing of the powers and principalities are always tempered by our memory that God’s greatest show of power is the power of restraint.  Retributive justice is what the world has told us we ought to give and receive, but God has steadfastly refused to give us what we deserve.

            Potency.  Force.  Muscle.  These are what we’ve come to expect are necessary to rule the world.  But God’s got different ideas about what it takes to run a universe.  I mean, after all, what do you expect from a God who can’t do any better for power than crying babies and broken carpenters?

Death, Where is thy Sting?

I was asked to participate in a service honoring Dr. George Tiller last Thursday. I wrote a little sermon to deliver there. I have included it here for your reading pleasure. You may find the Courier-Journal coverage here.

Celebrating the death of anyone is contrary to the Gospel that I read. Most certainly Dr. Tiller’s family and friends must be embraced this evening as we mourn their loss with them. The 55th verse of the first letter to the Corinthians reads, "O death, where is thy victory? O death, where is thy sting?"

This day the sting of death weights upon the hearts of those whom Dr. Tiller sought to serve as he protected the rights for all women to decide what they shall do with their body.

This day the sting rests upon the shoulders of those that speak out against the violence that claimed Dr. George Tiller’s life.

This day the sting of death cannot and must not be ignored. Let us embrace this pain, this sting as we gather here today unified against violence as a way of political power. Violence shall lead us all down a road to which there is no return.

The sting of death is real for us all, but the victory of death has no place here. There was no victory gained by anyone in the death of Dr. George Tiller. Left are a widow grieving the lose of a friend and confidant, a son that shall no longer share his life with his father, and us the mourners that chose not to forget.

There is this part of a verse from the prophet Micah that I love. It says, “…act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” This is a response to the question, “what does God require of you?” I think Dr. Tiller understood what it meant to answer the question in a profound manner.

Dr. Tiller gave his life answering this question, “what does God require of you?” For Dr. Tiller God required the total reorientation of his life. When George Tiller was entering the work force his life was transformed by circumstance. He lost his father, sister, & brother-in-law in an airplane accident. This gave Dr. Tiller a life’s calling. He took over the family business in Kansas and he raised his nephew. The nephew became a son and the family business cost him his life.

Dr. Tiller was not short on acting justly, loving mercy, walking humbly. With great compassion and mercy Dr. Tiller resisted the pressure to cease his mission to provide all women with options. Dr. Tiller did not retaliate when his practice was threatened or when his life was attempt to be extinguished. In humility Dr. Tiller mended his wounds and kept walking the path to which he was called.

There is a story that I am drawn to in this moment. It is a story by Bernard Malamud called, The Mourners. This is the story of Kessler a poor old man living alone having left this young family many years ago. He lives in a meager apartment. He is full of meager ways. He keeps to himself and a chaos surrounds him he remains clam…a non-anxious presence.

He has a quarrel with the tenement janitor, Ignace. Ignace spreads rumors and lies about Kessler. Kessler is pushed to his non-anxious limits.

Ignace punishes Kessler unjustly and goes to the owner, Gruber, and asks him to rid the building of Kessler. Kessler’s rent is denied and eviction notice is given. When Kessler ignores this and returns his rent once more a confrontation ensues between Kessler and Gruber.

Kessler is thrown out by force on to the streets. He is left in the harsh cold and rainy element. The tenement residents see this and bring Kessler and his stuff back into the building.

The final scene is Gruber full of anger returning to kick Kessler out again. He opens the door and sees Kessler on the floor a huddled mess reciting the Kaddish. Gruber’s response to this is to don the bed sheet as a mourner himself and recite the prayers with Kessler. For his humanity is gone, it left with the dignity he forbade Kessler in their dealings.

We mourn here today so that the injustice perpetrated in the name of God shall not pass without a witness. We mourn the death of Dr. George Tiller so that the threat of injustice shall meet the resistance of justice. We mourn today to answer the question, “O death, where is thy victory? Where is thy sting?" with the justice loving mercy that inspires us to walk humbly with our God.

Amen

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