the grass

This is an excerpt from a book I'm reading about Benedictine monks and hospitality. The book is by Homan and Pratt, called "Radical Hospitality: Benedict's way of love." This kind of hospitality is exemplified in the story I want to share.

"Father Noel and Father Dan were taking a walk on the monastery grounds one day. It was the kind of day made for a walk with a friend. A group of eleven- and twelve-year olds from an institution for troubled children were on a tour of the monastery. They had arrived by hay wagon, pulled by horses with a couple of young drivers, probably in their late teens. Acres of rolling grass invite you to stretch out on a sultry summer day and enjoy the soft grass and warm earth. The monastery grounds are well groomed, but the place doesn't feel like an institution...The two monks were enjoying one of those warm days of late summer. Guests were not as common in those days, but when they showed up they were welcome. Occupied in conversation, Father Dan did not notice the hay wagon drivers until they came within a few yards. "I was stopped in my tracks," he remembers. "Right there on the yard in front of us, the two wagon drivers were passing a joint back and forth, looking completely at home, as if this was the most natural thing to do at a monastery. In case you're wondering, it isn't." Father Noel, born in Italy and a monk all of his adult life, had never seen marijuana. he was not a naive or stupid man; such a thing simply was not part of his experience. Father Dan was a street-smart kid raised in Detroit. Before he could demand an explanation, Father Noel spoke up.
"Young men," he exclaimed with wide-armed relish, "we are so glad that you are with us today to enjoy the grass."
What if Christian communities were like that? Can it not be transformative to receive grace, when you know full well you are doing something wrong? What the world needs is more grace. More grace. A generous welcome. An outstretched hand. Radical hospitality that crosses barriers. Grass.

its a boy, again

Yesterday, Cherie and I went to the Dr. for an ultrasound to determine, among other things, the sex of baby #3. We were hoping for a girl this time.
On my way to pick Cherie up I thought about changing my shirt, makng my id as pastor less conspicuous. I was wearing a black clerical shirt. Sometimes wearing it to the hospital makes you the local chaplain on call.
We arrived on time for the appointment. On the way in I was stopped by a woman in tears who asked me if I was a minister and if I could come immediately and pray with her daughter and son-in-law, who received bad news. In an ultrasound at 16 weeks, they were told the fetus died. They were devastated. They were there to find out the sex of the baby.
I told her that I was there with my wife for the same reasonand would find them after we were done.
When we came out, they were gone. For us, the perspective quickly evolved from caring about the sex of the baby to the health and vitality of our baby.
I don't know why encounters happen when and how they do. It was not a foregone conclusion that I would be called upon just because I was in uniform, but I was.
I took their names. I can pray for them, maybe I can find them...Are they believers? And what consolation can be offered parents of such a loss? We lost a baby at 16 weeks once. It was hard. Should I have left Cherie to minister to them? What if that experience opened them for a Word from God that they hadn't been open to before? What if I had missed our ultrasound to minister to them? Will God reach them, comfort them, love them in some other way? I have good guilt about this. It will motivate me to seek them out. How many others are facing this kind of crisis without a community of hope, faith, and love surrounding them? I suspect many.
We're having another boy.

via vita/way of life

What is the via vita? For the Christian it consists in a devotion to the ways of Jesus and His disciples. Christians are called to live a new life, a way of life consistent with the life of Jesus and His Spirit-filled followers. What does that life look like?
The Acts community, as it emerged in the 1st century, was a community of Baptized believers. They were converted by the gospel message through the bold proclamation of the Apostles.
The emergent community devoted themselves to the apostles' teachign and fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayers.
Today, in postmodernity, in a post-Christian or non-Christian context, how do we get apostolic? And how do we encourage devotion to these four spiritual habits?
We eat together, sharing what we have. We pray and listen.
Taking a benedictine approach to these habits, we will begin lectio continua. We will also pray a psalm, the Lord's prayer, and intercessory prayer. But the center of the fellowship will be a meal. Potluck. Or eat out.
The life of Jesus, as embodied by the community, is an inclusive, compassionate, mission-driven life focused on meeting the complete needs of the other. Healing, forgiving, walking with, loving, laughing with, sharing, inviting, encouraging, and giving are consistent with the ministry of Jesus. So is rebuking and rejecting evil, speaking truth to power, advocating for the child and the widow.
A Christian community seeks to embody this via vita in the midst of a host community largely unfamiliar with this way. It is often counter cultural, even as it understands and speaks the language of the culture.
How does one engage a community in the via vita? Personal invitation.
On that note, I have to go.