You know, it's happened twice already. I write about some frustrating situation at work and through the process of venting on the page, I come to some epiphany that helps make sense of what I do (see blog 267 and 277). But you know, despite these new insights, somehow my coworker seems to find innovative new ways to just plain piss me off.
I don't really want to get into the latest ways he's been getting on my nerves. I want to delve a bit deeper into what I wrote about in my last post about work. In that entry, I talked about how I decided to try my best to treat Harold as a hard-working peer even though he's actually a hardly-working one. And for a couple weeks, it went really well. I mean, he didn't work any harder or faster but he seemed to be in a better mood. As for myself, because I wasn't always scrutinizing Harold - watching him out of the corner of my eye to catalog all the ways he wasn't working - I was able to relax as well and just do my job.
But you know, just when I think I've seen the limits of his poor work ethic and lack of empathy for the amount of work I put in, Harold somehow manages to find a new way to just frustrate the hell out of me.
But that's not what I want to talk about because it's really just more of the same ole situation.
There's something else I've been thinking about. See, the reason I decided to try and treat Harold as a peer was because I took a fresh look at some of the things Jesus said in the Gospels - in particular, the bit where he talks about loving your neighbor as yourself and loving the less than perfect the way God loves us.
And the bit that's tripping me up is that word, "love."
In 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, Paul talks about how doing what seems like holy work without love is equivalent to banging a cheap cymbal. And then he goes on to describe love in that passage you hear at so many weddings (appropriately so, I might add):
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Now if those are the elements of love then how am I doing at work with Harold?
1. patient - most of the time (1).
2. kind - try to be (1).
3. does not envy - there are times when I wish I could just sit around instead of breaking my back lifting boxes but besides that, there's not a whole lot about Harold that I envy (1).
4. does not boast, is not proud - I sometimes complain to one of our drivers, telling him how much work I've done that day compared to Harold so I guess I fail on this one (0).
5. is not rude - nope, not me (1).
6. is not self-seeking - nah...although I'm hoping for a generous raise once my yearly review comes around (1).
7. not easily angered - that's me (1).
8. keeps no record of wrongs - I try to forgive and forget but it's hard when Harold keeps reminding me (0).
9. does not delight in evil - I don't like evil (1).
10. rejoices with the truth - that's why I blog (1).
11. always protects - well, I haven't reported my complaints about Harold to my boss yet, does that count as protecting him (0)?
12. always trusts - I don't trust Harold (0).
13. always hopes - I do hope he'll do better (1).
14. always perseveres - well, I'm still working there...(1)
Ten out of fourteen ain't bad right?
But here's the thing I've been thinking about. Is living out the qualities of love that Paul lays out really love? I don't think so. The qualities that Paul lists are like signposts or indicators that show that a person is motivated by love. In this way, I think it's an all or nothing list.
Here's what I mean. Pregnancy tests work not by going in and verifying that an egg has been fertilized and has attached itself successfully to the uterine wall, they work by detecting the chemical/hormonal changes that take place once those things have happened. In other words, the test doesn't verify actual conception, it tests for signs that conception has occurred. Now in order to weed out false positives, the tests look for a multitude of indicators. If it doesn't find all the right signs, it returns a negative result. (Don't ask me how I know this.)
So I picture Paul writing this letter to the Corinthians and he comes up with this list of qualities that describe someone motivated by love. This is the last thing he writes in this letter and it's pretty long already so I'm thinking he's not all that interested in compiling a comprehensive inventory. Instead, he highlights the sure-things, the things that have to be there if someone is truly motivated by love. So these are the essentials, the bare minimums, and like the pregnancy test, if you ain't got all the signs, you ain't really lovin'.
There's another reason I know I don't treat Harold with love. I have zero respect for the guy. I don't know how to respect someone who consistently takes on the lightest workload possible (leaving me to do the heavy lifting), someone who doesn't check his work (twice in the past couple months I've had to hunt through the shelves to find boxes that Harold scanned in wrong), someone who complains when a rush order comes in because it means he'll have to get up out of his chair and actually do something (since I'm probably already out in the racks working on something else).
But he's my neighbor and Jesus wants me to be Jesus to Harold.
It's so hard to remember that Harold has been fearfully and lovingly made by God, that he is not beyond redemption. It's so hard to look past all the sin that's distorting the beauty God gave him. But that is my job as a christian.
I don't know.
Tell me about love. How do I love this guy? Does going through the motions of love count for anything? What would loving Harold look like?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
280. stay tuned..
I apologize again for not keeping up with my one-post-per-week "rule." I had another friend visiting from Hawaii last week and that cut into my time quite a bit but that's not the only reason I didn't write.
There's something that stirring in my subconscious - I can sense it but it's just brewing, sorting itself out beneath the surface. I'm not exactly sure what it is. To be honest, it could be something as mundane as a new idea about the lunch I make to eat at work. Or it could be some profound breakthrough as to how I can change the world through the way I live out my belief in Christ.
That's not to say there's nothing on the conscious side of the brain that I'm working on. There's quite a bit on the plate there as well. One item I've been thinking about lately - the other night at my church's Faith and Race class, we saw a powerful short film about race and racism called The Color of Fear. It's a pretty brutal film that highlights just how far we still need to go in terms of race reconciliation. This film, as well as the readings and the teachings I've been going through in this class, has given me lots to think and write about. But I'm not quite ready to do so yet.
On another note, I just discovered that they sell poi at Uwajimaya! Next week is the final week for the Faith and Race class and we're having a pot luck where people are encouraged to bring something unique (or not) that they grew up eating. I already knew of a place where I could buy Spam musibi (and yeah, I know I could make it myself but I'm far too lazy and sloppy in the kitchen) and so I was planning on bringing that but then I had a brilliant idea.
If you've never had it before, poi is cooked taro that's been mashed into a paste. It's an acquired taste. People who try it for the first time describe it as purple Elmer's glue. So my plan is to take poi to the pot luck. I'm guessing that most people will taste a bit of it before politely moving on to the next dish which means that at the end of the night I'll be able to take the bulk of it back home with me.
Yeah, I'm evil like that, but there are few things better in this world than poi for breakfast.
Thanks for reading and stay tuned.
There's something that stirring in my subconscious - I can sense it but it's just brewing, sorting itself out beneath the surface. I'm not exactly sure what it is. To be honest, it could be something as mundane as a new idea about the lunch I make to eat at work. Or it could be some profound breakthrough as to how I can change the world through the way I live out my belief in Christ.
That's not to say there's nothing on the conscious side of the brain that I'm working on. There's quite a bit on the plate there as well. One item I've been thinking about lately - the other night at my church's Faith and Race class, we saw a powerful short film about race and racism called The Color of Fear. It's a pretty brutal film that highlights just how far we still need to go in terms of race reconciliation. This film, as well as the readings and the teachings I've been going through in this class, has given me lots to think and write about. But I'm not quite ready to do so yet.
On another note, I just discovered that they sell poi at Uwajimaya! Next week is the final week for the Faith and Race class and we're having a pot luck where people are encouraged to bring something unique (or not) that they grew up eating. I already knew of a place where I could buy Spam musibi (and yeah, I know I could make it myself but I'm far too lazy and sloppy in the kitchen) and so I was planning on bringing that but then I had a brilliant idea.
If you've never had it before, poi is cooked taro that's been mashed into a paste. It's an acquired taste. People who try it for the first time describe it as purple Elmer's glue. So my plan is to take poi to the pot luck. I'm guessing that most people will taste a bit of it before politely moving on to the next dish which means that at the end of the night I'll be able to take the bulk of it back home with me.
Yeah, I'm evil like that, but there are few things better in this world than poi for breakfast.
Thanks for reading and stay tuned.
Sunday, November 04, 2007
279. thoughts on communion
The act of taking communion (aka the eucharist) is supposed to be way up there when it comes to the sacred rites of the church. Indeed, in some denominations, the act of taking communion is considered the high point of the service. The rite is observed in a variety of ways - I've experienced everything from very formalized, liturgical services to very informal ones where the elements were placed on a table at the front of the church and people were invited to partake as they felt led (taking a piece of bread and dipping it in the grape juice/wine). There was even one service I attended where the ushers passed out tiny covered plastic cups filled with grape juice. At first I couldn't figure out where the body/bread part of communion was until I noticed that the "lid" of the cup had two layers to it. Under the clear top layer was a tiny wafer that symbolized the bread and below that was the actual cover for the juice. You were supposed to peel back the top layer to get the wafer and then peel back the second layer to get at the juice. Surreal, to say the least.
It's still rather embarrassing to admit this but until a couple years ago, I had only the vaguest notion of what it was I was doing while taking communion. I mean I understood that we were remembering Jesus and obeying his command to "do this in remembrance of me" (1 Corinthians 11:23-25), and that the wine and the bread symbolized Jesus' blood and body, and while I suppose those are the nuts and bolts of what's happening, it just didn't feel all that meaningful for me. I did my best to participate with a sincere heart. I tried to think of Jesus dying on the cross for my sins, I tried to confess my sins before partaking so I could receive the elements cleansed, but I still didn't get it. I mean, it just felt like going through the motions.
Before moving to Seattle, I was a part of a house church back in Hawaii. We took turns teaching on Sundays and although I can't remember how it happened, I got picked (or maybe I volunteered) to share a message about communion. Actually, now that I think about it, I do remember a bit of how this teaching opportunity came about.
We had been meeting as a house church for a few months when someone observed that we had never had communion. We all felt bad about this and so the next week we brought bread and wine and decided to give it a go. One of the features of our house church was that it was very open and discussion oriented. Before we shared the communion meal, someone asked the simple question, "what are we doing this for?" And then one by one we began to admit that beyond rote Sunday school answers, we didn't really know. Despite our ignorance, we broke bread anyway but we also said one of us should do some research and share what they learned. And then I got picked...or maybe I volunteered, I still can't remember that part.
I put nose to grindstone. I read the accounts of the Lord's supper in the Gospels and the bit in 1 Corinthians 11 and 12, but I had heard these portions of scripture so often that they didn't help much. So I consulted the all-knowing Wikipedia, but that just gave me a raft of doctrinal history which was about as useful to me understanding communion as learning how to operate a printing press would be in learning how to read. I knew what I needed was to get in the heads of the disciples as they sat around the table with Jesus in the upper room - what were they thinking as they heard Jesus tell them to eat his body and drink his blood?
That's when I found N.T. Wright's book, The Meal Jesus Gave Us. An excellent book and while there are brief bits where he picks at some obscure doctrinal nits, it really helped me reach a deeper, fuller understanding of communion. Much of what follows came about with help from Mr. Wright's book. (I've put my own slant on it so if you disagree on my take on communion, don't slight his book, it's probably my mistake.)
In order to get a fuller understanding of communion, we need to take a trip in the way back machine - way back to 1500 BC, to Moses and the Exodus. I won't rehash the entire story but the salient points are these. The Israelites were held in captivity and made slaves of the Pharaoh until God spoke to Moses through a burning bush, instructing him to free his people and take them to a land that God had chosen for them - the promised land, flowing with milk and honey (Exodus 3:7-10). Ten nasty plagues ensued, culminating in the death of all the first-born children in Egypt. However, this plague passed over the Israelites. To this day, the Passover holiday is celebrated by Jews around the world as commanded by God. It's a time when they remember both their ancestors' suffering under slavery and the work God did to free them.
More significant for this discussion on communion, it's this Passover ceremony that Jesus shared with his disciples where he poured wine and broke bread and told us to do likewise (Matthew 26:17-19). As with everything else in Jesus' life, this is no coincidence - it's a date with deep, beautiful, nuanced meaning.
As I understand it, the Exodus is central to the identity of the Jewish people. Had God not led them out of Egypt through Moses, they say that they would still be living as slaves. In the same way, one of the central tenants of the christian faith is the idea that through the death of Jesus on the cross, those who believe and follow Christ are freed from being slaves to sin (Romans 6:6-7).
But the Passover story doesn't end with freedom. Once freed from Egypt, the Jews wandered the desert for forty years before being led to the land promised to them. And just as times of adversity build character, it was through this time of wandering that the "character" of the Jewish people was developed. Lauren F. Winner puts it this way in her excellent book, Girl Meets God:
"In The Star of Redemption, [Franz] Rosenzweig discusses [Jewish] time and calendars and holidays. About Pesach, he writes, 'The welding of people into a people takes place in its deliverance.' And that, it seems to me, is what both passover and Maundy Thursday are about - making a people. In the Exodus, the Jews are transformed from people into a people and at the Eucharist, instituted there at the Last Supper, we Christians are transformed into a people, too." (Winner 173)
I happen to believe that christians today are like those Jews wandering, stumbling, complaining towards the promised land. They were working their way to what would become Israel. We are working our way to the Kingdom of God - the time when Christ will come again to finish the work of redeeming this fallen world. For me, seeing the Eucharist in this way transforms what was once a staid, Sunday school answer - "we take communion to remember Christ's death on the cross" - into a vibrant reminder that we are all on a journey, that as bleak as the world seems, there is a promised land ahead of us. And I don't think it's a stretch to say that when Jesus instructed us to "do this in remembrance of me," he meant for us to remember both what he did on the cross as well as what he will do when he comes again.
[warning: unorthodox view ahead, please don't stone me]
To be honest, there are still times, while taking communion, that I find it difficult to remember what I'm supposed to be remembering. And I wonder.
As many churches do, my church celebrates communion every Sunday. Other churches I've attended took communion on a monthly or quarterly schedule. But for Jews, the Passover meal is a yearly event and as such, it's a big deal. The ceremony literally lasts all night and it's full of discussion on what the different foods symbolize. In taking communion every week, I have to fight the temptation to think of it as just that thing we do every Sunday.
I wonder if it would be better to take communion just once a year and to make it a really big deal. I think it'd be great to devote one service every year to a fuller discussion of the Last Supper and how Jesus was reworking the Passover celebration. Can you imagine how deep and meaningful drinking the wine and eating the bread would be on a Sunday like that?
Now I know some christians get together on Passover week to celebrate a christian Seder, but this is seen as kind of a fringe thing done only by hardcore christians. And I understand that devoting a Sunday service during Passover week to focus on communion would interfere with Easter Sunday but how about the week before or the week after or maybe some other date entirely?
I would love to see a Sunday where the whole church gets together and celebrates a Seder meal together...but that's just me and my two cents.
It's still rather embarrassing to admit this but until a couple years ago, I had only the vaguest notion of what it was I was doing while taking communion. I mean I understood that we were remembering Jesus and obeying his command to "do this in remembrance of me" (1 Corinthians 11:23-25), and that the wine and the bread symbolized Jesus' blood and body, and while I suppose those are the nuts and bolts of what's happening, it just didn't feel all that meaningful for me. I did my best to participate with a sincere heart. I tried to think of Jesus dying on the cross for my sins, I tried to confess my sins before partaking so I could receive the elements cleansed, but I still didn't get it. I mean, it just felt like going through the motions.
Before moving to Seattle, I was a part of a house church back in Hawaii. We took turns teaching on Sundays and although I can't remember how it happened, I got picked (or maybe I volunteered) to share a message about communion. Actually, now that I think about it, I do remember a bit of how this teaching opportunity came about.
We had been meeting as a house church for a few months when someone observed that we had never had communion. We all felt bad about this and so the next week we brought bread and wine and decided to give it a go. One of the features of our house church was that it was very open and discussion oriented. Before we shared the communion meal, someone asked the simple question, "what are we doing this for?" And then one by one we began to admit that beyond rote Sunday school answers, we didn't really know. Despite our ignorance, we broke bread anyway but we also said one of us should do some research and share what they learned. And then I got picked...or maybe I volunteered, I still can't remember that part.
I put nose to grindstone. I read the accounts of the Lord's supper in the Gospels and the bit in 1 Corinthians 11 and 12, but I had heard these portions of scripture so often that they didn't help much. So I consulted the all-knowing Wikipedia, but that just gave me a raft of doctrinal history which was about as useful to me understanding communion as learning how to operate a printing press would be in learning how to read. I knew what I needed was to get in the heads of the disciples as they sat around the table with Jesus in the upper room - what were they thinking as they heard Jesus tell them to eat his body and drink his blood?
That's when I found N.T. Wright's book, The Meal Jesus Gave Us. An excellent book and while there are brief bits where he picks at some obscure doctrinal nits, it really helped me reach a deeper, fuller understanding of communion. Much of what follows came about with help from Mr. Wright's book. (I've put my own slant on it so if you disagree on my take on communion, don't slight his book, it's probably my mistake.)
In order to get a fuller understanding of communion, we need to take a trip in the way back machine - way back to 1500 BC, to Moses and the Exodus. I won't rehash the entire story but the salient points are these. The Israelites were held in captivity and made slaves of the Pharaoh until God spoke to Moses through a burning bush, instructing him to free his people and take them to a land that God had chosen for them - the promised land, flowing with milk and honey (Exodus 3:7-10). Ten nasty plagues ensued, culminating in the death of all the first-born children in Egypt. However, this plague passed over the Israelites. To this day, the Passover holiday is celebrated by Jews around the world as commanded by God. It's a time when they remember both their ancestors' suffering under slavery and the work God did to free them.
More significant for this discussion on communion, it's this Passover ceremony that Jesus shared with his disciples where he poured wine and broke bread and told us to do likewise (Matthew 26:17-19). As with everything else in Jesus' life, this is no coincidence - it's a date with deep, beautiful, nuanced meaning.
As I understand it, the Exodus is central to the identity of the Jewish people. Had God not led them out of Egypt through Moses, they say that they would still be living as slaves. In the same way, one of the central tenants of the christian faith is the idea that through the death of Jesus on the cross, those who believe and follow Christ are freed from being slaves to sin (Romans 6:6-7).
But the Passover story doesn't end with freedom. Once freed from Egypt, the Jews wandered the desert for forty years before being led to the land promised to them. And just as times of adversity build character, it was through this time of wandering that the "character" of the Jewish people was developed. Lauren F. Winner puts it this way in her excellent book, Girl Meets God:
"In The Star of Redemption, [Franz] Rosenzweig discusses [Jewish] time and calendars and holidays. About Pesach, he writes, 'The welding of people into a people takes place in its deliverance.' And that, it seems to me, is what both passover and Maundy Thursday are about - making a people. In the Exodus, the Jews are transformed from people into a people and at the Eucharist, instituted there at the Last Supper, we Christians are transformed into a people, too." (Winner 173)
I happen to believe that christians today are like those Jews wandering, stumbling, complaining towards the promised land. They were working their way to what would become Israel. We are working our way to the Kingdom of God - the time when Christ will come again to finish the work of redeeming this fallen world. For me, seeing the Eucharist in this way transforms what was once a staid, Sunday school answer - "we take communion to remember Christ's death on the cross" - into a vibrant reminder that we are all on a journey, that as bleak as the world seems, there is a promised land ahead of us. And I don't think it's a stretch to say that when Jesus instructed us to "do this in remembrance of me," he meant for us to remember both what he did on the cross as well as what he will do when he comes again.
[warning: unorthodox view ahead, please don't stone me]
To be honest, there are still times, while taking communion, that I find it difficult to remember what I'm supposed to be remembering. And I wonder.
As many churches do, my church celebrates communion every Sunday. Other churches I've attended took communion on a monthly or quarterly schedule. But for Jews, the Passover meal is a yearly event and as such, it's a big deal. The ceremony literally lasts all night and it's full of discussion on what the different foods symbolize. In taking communion every week, I have to fight the temptation to think of it as just that thing we do every Sunday.
I wonder if it would be better to take communion just once a year and to make it a really big deal. I think it'd be great to devote one service every year to a fuller discussion of the Last Supper and how Jesus was reworking the Passover celebration. Can you imagine how deep and meaningful drinking the wine and eating the bread would be on a Sunday like that?
Now I know some christians get together on Passover week to celebrate a christian Seder, but this is seen as kind of a fringe thing done only by hardcore christians. And I understand that devoting a Sunday service during Passover week to focus on communion would interfere with Easter Sunday but how about the week before or the week after or maybe some other date entirely?
I would love to see a Sunday where the whole church gets together and celebrates a Seder meal together...but that's just me and my two cents.
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