Musings

Progressive Christian Elevator Speeches

Since The Center for Progressive Christianity came into being in 1994, it has succeeded in widely spreading the term "progressive Christian" around the world.  It embraces a non-literalistic approach to the Bible, a pluralistic understanding of the faith in relation to other religions, openness to metaphorical and non-supernaturalistic interpretations of Christian tradition, and commitment to practicing the faith to make the world a better place.

But now it can be said that there are two kinds of progressive Christianity in America. In the last few years, the term "progressive Christian" has begun to be used by evangelical Christians who are disaffected from right-wing politics.    Their definition of "progressive Christian" is mostly a political one; they tend to have orthodox, traditional views about religion while standing for economic justice and peace.

By contrast, The Center for Progressive Christianity does not define progressive Christianity in political terms.  It's 8 Point Welcome Statement embraces people of all sorts of persuasions.  Our movement is committed to inclusiveness at many levels. We care a lot about justice, peace, and environmental responsibility, but we recognize that there are many different ways to approach these goals.  While we encourage political activism, we care even more about values that are more enduring than current political passions.

So it is more important than ever for us to be clear about what we mean when we say we are progressive Christians.  For years I've been writing and collecting "tag lines", short phrases that we can share with others about the kind of Christianity we represent.  Lots of folks are embarrassed to call themselves Christians, because of all the bad things that have been done in the name of our faith, and particularly by the traditional Christian claim that Christianity is the only true faith.  Our progressive Christian movement is about  re-imagining and re-defining our religion, boldly reclaiming our identity, and finding succinct ways to express it:

  I'm a progressive Christian who

  * keeps the faith and drops the dogma
  * experiences God more than I believe in any definition of God
  * thinks that my faith is about deeds, not creeds
  * takes the Bible seriously because I don't take it literally
  * thinks spiritual questions are more important than religious answers
  * cares more about what happens in the war-room and the board-room than about what happens in the bedroom
  * thinks that other religions can be as good for others as my religion is good for me
  * goes to a church that doesn't require you to park your brain outside before you come inside
  * thinks that God is bigger than anybody's idea about God
  * thinks that God evolves

  Do you have any "elevator speeches" you'd like to add to this list?

 

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Special Events at Sausalito  Presbyterian
 112 Bulkley, 332-3790    www.sausalitopresbyterian.com 
 

 
   

    SURVIVAL OF BODILY DEATH WITH MICHAEL  MURPHY, Co-founder, Esalen Institute
  SUN., FEB. 3, 9:30 AM in worship

  Michael Murphy will be interviewed by Jim Burklo by way of the sermon on Sunday, February 3, in 9:30 am worship. Michael is the co-founder of the Esalen Institute near Big Sur. Michael and Esalen have been leaders in the fields of transpersonal psychology, the human potential movement, and exploration of the body-mind connection since the early 1960's. His book, "Golf in the Kingdom", was a big seller in the 1970's. Michael Murphy is presently the convener of a group of classics scholars who are developing an interfaith, cross-cultural understanding of the afterlife. He will share the findings of this effort with us on February 3.

 
 

ASPHALT JESUS:  Movie
  Saturday, February. 9, 7-10 PM, $10 donation

 

A documentary about a 2006 walk across the United States to promote progressive Christianity. CrossWalkAmerica's core team of walkers went from Phoenix to Washington, DC, on foot, visiting churches and communities along the way to share the good news of an open-minded, open-hearted, inclusive, pluralistic form of the faith. It's a heart-touching and inspiring film that reveals the yearning in America for a gentler, kinder, much more open and affirming kind of faith. This event is a fundraiser to help get the film into national distribution.

The River

I learned something that impressed me when I visited Wichita a few weeks ago.  As a passenger in a car driving over the river that bisects the city, I said, "Oh, there's the Arkansas (ARkansaw)!"  It brought back memories of a cross-country road trip I took many years ago, following the river down from the foothills of the Rockies.  At Canon City, Colorado, the river tumbled through a gorge lined with mica-laden rock that shimmered in the sunlight.  Then it flowed placidly across the endless plain of Kansas.  It's one of America's longest and most important waterways.

The driver of the car corrected me immediately in my pronunciation.  "No.  Here we call it the Arkansas (OurKANsas) River!"

I was enchanted by the idea that this river could be the Arkansas (ARkansaw) in Colorado, the Arkansas (OurKANsas) in Kansas, and once again the Arkansas (ARkansaw) in Oklahoma and Arkansas (ARkansaw). 

It's a lingustic misunderstanding, I suppose.  The best-known version of the river's name came from an Indian word transliterated by the French, who aren't in the habit of pronouncing the last "s".  But not all Americans bought everything that came with the Louisiana Purchase.

The pronunciation of the river's name says much more.  Not just about the French.  Not just about Kansas.  Not just about America.  It says something about the human and divine condition.

What, or whom, I call God is a river that flows through many, many souls. Some call the river Watanka.  Others call it Allah.  Others name it Brahman.  Others pray it Yahweh.  Some sing it Nature.  Others refuse, on grounds of religious principle, to name it at all.  Meanwhile, the water is the same.  The river flows on, without apparent concern for what it is called or how it is defined.  Fish happily swim up and down its current, oblivious to theological attempts to constrain it.  Some people stand by its banks and declaim its intentions and directions, without bothering to follow it.  Without taking the trouble to jump into it and go with its flow.  Without honoring how others might experience it, elsewhere along its path.  Some people have adamant opinions about it, instead of just enjoying it and letting it exist on its own terms.  Some people call the river "Our God", as if they could control or own it, or as if it had chosen them to be its exclusive spokespersons.

Meanwhile, the river runs its long and steady course through every heart and soul, bringing life to all, regardless of what any might think of it, regardless of the names we give it.

Perhaps the highest praise we can give to God is to appreciate how very many ways we describe and name the transcendent dimension.  Honoring the fact that there is no one way to say God's name is itself a profound act of worship.

So, more power to the people of Kansas for their special way of saying the name of the great river that defines their landscape.  Thanks to them for their addition to the cacaphonic poetry of America's language about itself.  With a wink and a chuckle, let us thank them for reminding us of the infinite possibilities for naming the river that flows through us all.

Asphalt Jesus: A Book Review

Asphalt Jesus: Finding a New Christian Faith Along the Highways of America

by Eric Elnes

Jossey-Bass/Wiley, 2007

Reviewed by Jim Burklo, pastor, Sausalito Presbyterian Church, member, board of directors, The Center for Progressive Christianity, www.tcpc.org

Yes, there is a place in America named Podunk, and progressive Christianity is alive and well there. Podunk Corner is a wide spot in the road in Oklahoma. Just south of the town, over the Texas border, a group of progressive Christians, walking across the United States to share a new vision of faith, were invited to spend the night at the ranch house of Doris and Robert Akers. The ranch has been in the Akers family since 1906, and the house is festooned with the Texas state flag and the Texas star. The Akers belong to a local church, but don’t much like the preaching they hear. So they read the books and the blogs of Bishop John Shelby Spong and other liberal theologians and scholars in order to get a perspective that makes more sense to them. They love their church and community but on matters theological and social, they are in the minority. Eric Elnes quoted Doris Akers in Asphalt Jesus, his book documenting the walk: “I just have a hard time keeping my mouth shut when there’s so much that needs to be changed in our country.”

 

Eric Elnes isn’t one to keep his mouth shut, or his feet still, either. He was inspired to change things when he daydreamed about taking a walk across America with a set of principles for a more inclusive and loving Christianity and “nailing them to a church doorway in Washington”. Although he resisted his own idea, when he brought it up to the people of Scottsdale Congregational United Church of Christ in Arizona, where he is the senior pastor, his parishioners wouldn’t let it die. They created an organization to sponsor the walk, Cross Walk America (www.crosswalkamerica.org), and gave it energetic support in time and money.

 

The dream turned into a reality on Easter Sunday in 2006, a small band of walkers, supported by a crew in an RV including film-makers, began their 2,500 mile trek on foot from Phoenix to Washington, DC. With them they carried the Phoenix Affirmations, a twelve-point declaration of progressive Christian principles written in 2005. These affirmations morphed out of the 2003 Phoenix Declaration, which was drafted by an ecumenical clergy group called No Longer Silent in Phoenix, opposing continuing discrimination against homosexual people in the church. The Phoenix Affirmations are very similar to the 1996 Eight-Point Welcome Statement of The Center for Progressive Christianity (www.tcpc.org).

 

Cross Walk America worked hard to find churches and people who would offer hospitality to the walkers.  However, there were long stretches of the walk route in which no churches could be found that had an openly progressive orientation. This turned out to be a great blessing. The uncertainties about where the group would stay, and whom they would meet, resulted in serendipitous encounters that blew away widely-held prejudices about religion in “Middle America”. At many points in the book, I was moved by waves of emotion as I read about the surprising acts of kindness and hospitality that the walkers experienced, often from people they least expected to provide them.

 

Jesus First Baptist Church in Springerville, AZ, with its sign emblazoned with the cross and American flags, was so welcoming of the Cross Walk crew’s spontaneous visit that it took up a money offering to support them, even as the pastor gently let them know he disagreed with much of their progressive agenda. When the walkers stumbled into Hereford, Texas, after walking in the heat past miles of stockyards, they were given a huge barbecue feast at a non-denominational church led by a woman ordained in the Baptist church. Their sojourn near Podunk Center revealed how people are living out a progressive expression of the faith even in the very buckle of the Bible Belt.

 

Elnes’ book is a hopeful celebration of what unites Christians and others even in a time when religious intolerance and chauvinism seem to prevail. He found that there is much less negativity and rigidity in conservative churches than the media, and the rhetoric of many high-profile conservative Christian leaders, would suggest. And he also witnessed a great hunger in “Middle America” for a form of Christianity that takes the Bible seriously without taking it literally, and that cares more about correcting poverty and injustice than about judging people’s sexual orientation. Cross Walk’s approach was forthright but humble.  Eric and the rest of the walkers listened as much or more than they talked. In Asphalt Jesus, Eric opens a window into the soul of American Christianity, and what he reveals is heartwarming and encouraging.

 

The walkers arrived in Washington, DC, last Labor Day, joined by an enthusiastic crowd of about 200 supporters walking the last mile to a rousing worship celebration at Foundry Methodist Church. But Eric’s book, and its accompanying documentary movie which will be finished soon, comprise the real climax of his walk across America. If the book is a preview of the film, don’t be shocked if it, too, makes you want to walk the talk of progressive Christianity across America for yourself!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Artful Resurrection

It was a cube consisting of many separate pieces of charred wood, each piece dangling from a thin black wire, hanging from the ceiling of the De Young Museum in San Francisco. This  artwork by Cornelia Parker was entitled “Anti-Mass”. It was a compelling sight. It reminded me of the way blackened embers  are suspended in air above a fire, as if momentarily weightless. The installation was a thing of simple beauty,  taking the mind to a place beyond words.

          

Then I read the card next to the installation and found that I was looking at the creatively re-arranged remains of a black Baptist church in Alabama which had been destroyed in a racist arson attack. “Anti-Mass” was at least a double-play on words – referring to the airborne wood, and the violent act against the worship of the congregation that once met inside it.

          

As soon as I knew the story behind the wood, I sensed that I  was in the presence of the sacred. In a  way, this work of art was the resurrection of that burned church. The artist had taken that terrible act of  racist arson and turned it inside out and upside down. Just as the early Christians turned the crucifixion inside out and upside down, transforming the cross from a terrifying symbol of Roman state power into a hopeful sign of salvation.

          

When I got home from the museum, I reflected on the striking difference in my experience of the artwork between my first glance at it and my later discovery of the wood’s source. It  revealed how influenced I am by the emotional and spiritual associations that I  make, or that others make for me. It  revealed that I, and the rest of us, seem to be primed for experiences of the  sacred.  There is a God-shaped cube inside of  me, ready to be filled by encounters with divinity.

          

It also revealed the resurrecting, redeeming power given to  each of us by God. We have within each of us a remarkable measure of divine energy which we can use to turn hopelessness into hope, violence into compassion, despair into positive vision, destruction into creativity. If a church building, burned down in an act of hatred, can be brought back to life in such a remarkable manner, what isn’t possible for us, both as individuals and as a collective?

          

What  creative, redemptive leap can our nation take to help the people of  Iraq turn seared flesh, twisted metal, and dusty rubble into elements  of peace and prosperity? How can we take the emotional charge from the injuries and insults we each suffer, and direct that energy toward healing and wholeness? What can we do to transform the church from being a reliquary for old dogma into becoming a living spiritual community for the present?

          

If an artist can bring about a resurrection with nothing more than wire and bits of burnt wood, think of what you and I can bring to life! Each counter-intuitive action we take to change ourselves and the world for the better is a form of artwork, as worthy of “ooohs” and “aaahs” as anything hanging in a museum...

      

 

      

 

Four Spiritual Awes

They are still in circulation, all these years later. I remember young, earnest, long-haired converts to Christianity passing out these tracts at the beach when I was a teenager in Santa Cruz, California. The Four Spiritual Laws were created by Campus Crusade for Christ, an evangelical group, as a way of boiling the religion down to a simple formula: 1.) God loves you and offers a wonderful plan for your life. 2.) Man is sinful and separated from God.  Therefore, he cannot know and experience God's love and plan for his life. 3.) Jesus Christ is God's only provision for man's sin. Through Him you can know and experience God's love and plan for your life. 4.) We must individually receive Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord; then we can know and experience God's love and plan for our lives.

There are serious flaws in these “Spiritual Laws”. They present a negative view of human nature, and a chauvinistic, dogmatic kind of religion. They beg questions that the tract can’t answer. If “man” is so sinful and separated from God, how can “man” know anything of God through Jesus, either?  If God has a plan for your life, why hasn’t God shown it to you already? Does it make any sense to claim that Jesus is the only way to God, when clearly so many other people have found God through other religions?

There must be equally simple ways to express a humbler, kinder Christianity. So I offer an alternative:

The Four Spiritual Awes

1.) Awe for freedom. God’s awesome love enables you to choose your life’s plan for yourself. Through prayerful communion with God, and in soulful service to others, trust that you will find the meaning and purpose of your existence.

2.) Awe for divinity. You are born in the awesome image of God, who is love. Your failings are reminders to return to your divine nature which, like all people, you so easily forget.

3.) Awe for the journey. There are many paths that can help you remember your divine nature, and following Jesus Christ is one of them. The path of Jesus can be hard; it’s not easy to love even your enemies, as he did. But it is an awesome challenge that is supremely worth your life. 

4.) Awe for growth. Both individually and collectively, God calls us to ever-more awesome expressions of compassion and spiritual awareness.

The one thing I’ve always admired about the original “Four Spiritual Laws” tract is its circle diagram illustrating the principle of putting God at the center of our lives. The tract showed a circle with the word SELF emblazoned in the middle, with a little cross next to the circle. The next image is of a circle with a big cross in it, with the word “self” in smaller letters next to it inside the circle. The message: put Christ at the center of your life, instead of your self, and you’ll experience a better life on this earth and salvation in the next.

I’d draw the diagram somewhat differently than the original one in the tract. I'd replace the cross image with the word "God".  This might serve as a straightforward description of the common goal of all the world’s great religions. We are most human, most divine, and most fulfilled when we empty ourselves of our selves and let God be at our center, overwhelming us with awe and compassion.

There are more spiritual awes than four, I’m sure.  But perhaps these are enough to get us started on the path to discovering the rest of them!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jesus as Woman

One of the readers of my weekly “Musings” blog, Karen Whitehill, is an artist who created a series of collages in which she superimposes the faces and bodies of famous actresses from mid-twentieth-century movie posters onto familiar images of Jesus.  Each of these well-known paintings is focused on a woman who is feeding the five thousand, standing before Pilate, or preaching to the disciples. “My idea was to create a feminist vision of Christ, while acknowledging that if Jesus were a woman, her story would be quite different,” she says.  (Have a look at her remarkable work at www.kwcollages.com .)

The images she creates are sometimes funny, sometimes alluring, sometimes disturbing, and always challenging to one’s assumptions about the identity of Jesus.  Our knowledge of the historical Jesus, rather than just the Jesus of tradition, is very sketchy.  So there is a way in which Karen’s female images of Christ are only a little more far-fetched than the traditional ones.  And in some significant ways, her images invite us into deeper dimensions of Christian spirituality.

There’s a lot right about depicting Grace Kelly as the Christ of the Transfiguration. The story is about how Jesus appeared on top of a mountain, surrounded by glory, before his disciples, who wanted him to stay there and wanted to build a structure around him for worship.  But he came down the mountain and got back to practical ministry work instead.  His life was about down-to-earth service, not floating in the sky with rays of light behind him.  Grace Kelley was a common person who became the princess of Monaco, living a charmed life, but then, like Jesus, died at a relatively young age.  She represents well the tension we all must negotiate between what is ideal and what is real, the necessity for integrating the spiritual with the physical.  In our culture today, the female body is practically worshipped on the covers of magazines and in the media.  We've done to women what Jesus would not let his disciples do to himself:  objectify them in an unreal, idealized form.

Who wouldn’t want their kids to be blessed personally by an Ingrid Bergman Jesus, as he did when he told his disciples not to hinder the children from coming to him?  I don’t know if she ever lightened the door of a church, but she would have been a Sunday School teacher that a kid could never forget.  This picture reminds us that our own child-like faith in divine love can admit us into the kingdom of heaven that surrounds us all the time. 

And think how much more information a Loretta Young Jesus might have extracted from the woman at the well!  The male Jesus only skimmed the surface of the Samaritan woman's story.

Might we well expect a Lana Turner Jesus to transform water into wine by casting a sidelong glance and a suggestive gesture at the urns?  Isn’t this image, and the gospel story of the miracle at the wedding itself, a good symbol for the deepest power of sexuality to change the commonplace into the divine, to draw out the soul through the body, to find ecstasy in the everyday? 

And isn’t the young Judy Garland Jesus, with the braids and the earnest expression she wore when engaging with the Wizard of Oz, Glenda the Good, and the Wicked Witch, an apt image to represent the pre-teen Christ when he was conversing with the squabbling rabbis in the temple in Jerusalem?  She evokes the perennial struggle of young people to reconcile the wisdom and the foolishness of their elders.

I’m sure Karen is right that if Jesus had been a woman, the gospel story would have been different.   Yet her use of women’s images for the Christ has the paradoxical effect of exposing fresh layers of meaning that can be found in the stories of the male Jesus as we read them in the Bible.  In any case, imagining Jesus as a woman helps to reveal the divine Self that waits to be discovered within us all.

Psalm 23: The Marin County Version

God  is my life-coach. I have it  made. I kick back in her back-yard lounge chair, or relax in her hot tub during our sessions.  With her guidance, everything goes smoothly. She restores my self-esteem. She tells me the right way to handle things, so it's no wonder that I recommend her to other clients.  Even though my career is on the rocks, my family is mad at me, I can't make my mortgage, and I've got a dangerously high cholesterol level, I am not sweating any of it.  She's always there for me; her advice, her connections, they comfort me. She's calling a conference to work things out with the people who are breathing down my neck.  Not only that, during our counseling sessions, she gives me a cranial massage with aromatherapy oil, while making sure I always have a full glass of mineral water.  Because of her, goodness and mercy follow me, so I'm extending her contract with me indefinitely.

Beyond the Afterlife

(I get a steady stream of email from people who are struggling with the great questions of faith.  It is a privilege to be in dialogue with them about these issues.  Here I share an email exchange with Mitch.  I got to know him when he and his wife brought their child to Sausalito Presbyterian to be baptized.  After the ceremony, Mitch and I got into a long dialogue about matters theological which has continued over email for a couple of years now.  He’s an especially thoughtful, sensitive spiritual seeker and I value our ongoing conversation a great deal.  Here’s our latest exchange, about a subject of practically universal interest:  the afterlife.)

Dear Jim:

We haven't spoken in a while, but I do think of you often.  I'm just getting around to reading some of your Musings and this one made me want to get in touch with you.

I've been kicking around this idea that in order to be true to Christ's message that one shouldn't believe in an afterlife.  Let me explain.  It seems to me that too many people turn to Christ (or even religion) because of some promise of great reward in the afterlife.  To me this seems to be off message of what Christ was saying.  It also seems very selfish.  "I don't really want to love my neighbor, but I have to in order to get a bigger swimming pool in my backyard in heaven."  This "afterlife reward" is not what Christ was saying.  One should find joy, peace and happiness by living a life of love.  That is the reward in itself.

So, recently I have begun calling myself a Christian without a net.  I believe in Jesus Christ and his teachings, but I'm doing it because it brings me joy.  I don't want the promise of an afterlife.

So here's my question - does this mean that I can't be a Christian?  Does one need to believe in "heaven" in order to be a Christian?

Thanks for listening.

Mitch

Dear Mitch:

Good news:  you definitely do not have to believe in an "afterlife" to be a Christian.  For one thing, when Jesus talked about "heaven", his words were put into his mouth by early Christians who literally believed that the structure of the cosmos had just been changed by Jesus' life and death and resurrection.  They believed that before Jesus, the ancient Ptolemaic structure of the universe prevailed, with heaven in the realm beyond the sky, and six levels of "heavens" below it, each in descending order of power derived from God from the highest heaven.  Through Jesus, the early Christians believed that God had broken through all the lower levels of heaven and had come to earth to rule directly and personally.  So the early Christian idea was that, literally, heaven had come to earth!  It wasn't about life after death, but about life on earth right then and there, and about an imminent end to death altogether.  They believed that when Jesus returned, which they expected to happen in their lifetimes, believers would never die and that believers who had died would be brought back to life.

Jesus himself appears to have referred to heaven as the rule of God on earth; he was very much focused on redeeming life here and now.  Eternal life was for him a state of being that we can experience while we are alive, a state of being in full communion with God.

The idea of heaven as we associate it with Christianity actually came later, as the Christians saw that Jesus wasn't coming back any time soon, and that the world was going on pretty much as before.  They went back to the Ptolemaic universe idea (the seven levels or spheres of heaven), and figured that at death, the saved were taken up to the highest heaven to be with God.  Hence all the imagery of heaven as a place with clouds and angels with wings flying around.

Of course, that idea began to fall apart when Galileo and others realized that the earth was not the center of the universe, nor were there any levels of heaven as the old structure suggested.

I believe that there is such a thing as "eternal life", however.  But it's not someplace in the sky.  It is a subjective experience that people have during life when they experience oneness with God, when they have powerful experiences of love and awe.  It is also a subjective experience in the death process, reported often by people who have almost died or been revived from heart stoppage.  As the body dies, it ceases to send signals to the brain that would give it a sense of "time" as we usually know it.  The brain is left with its own inner experience, which it never knows to end.  We never know that we are dead when we are dead - we only know we're alive while we're alive.  So it is possible to experience something we might call "eternal life" subjectively, even though objectively there is a moment when life ceases.  I believe that religion can be extremely helpful in preparing for this subjective experience, by encouraging us to meditate and know the presence of God, by filling our minds with positive images, metaphors, and stories, by feeding our "dream life" in creative ways.

What do you think of all of this??

Take care!

Jim

Parable of the Parrot

(A few years ago, I received a "spam" email containing a story about a parrot.  It had a dogmatic Christian punchline, which I can no longer remember.  I decided to re-write it and turn the theology on its head.  I just discovered my version of the story in my files this week, and thought I'd pass it along.)

Once there was a little boy who was walking down the street and came upon a preacher who held a birdcage in his hand.  In the cage was a beautiful parrot.

"What are you doing with that parrot?" asked the little boy.

"I'm going to turn it into a Christian preacher," said the preacher.

"I'm going to turn it into a Christian preacher," said the parrot.

"Hmmm," said the boy.  "How are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to teach it to say 'Believe in the Lord Jesus as your personal savior and you shall be saved'", said the preacher.

"I'm going to teach it to say 'Believe in the Lord Jesus as your personal savior and you shall be saved'", said the parrot.

The boy thought for a moment and then asked the preacher, "What would you take for that parrot?  Five dollars?"

"Make it ten," said the preacher.

"Make it ten," said the parrot.

The boy had just made ten dollars by taking care of his neighbors' pets while they were on vacation.  He handed the preacher a ten dollar bill, and picked up the cage with the parrot.

"What are you going to do with the parrot?" asked the preacher.

"Set it free," said the boy as he opened the door of the birdcage.

"Set it free," said the parrot.  "Set it free, set it free!" it squawked as it flew, joyfully flapping its wings into the distance.  "Set it free, set it free, set it free!"

"Why did you do that?" asked the preacher.

"So that it would go preach the gospel of Jesus everywhere," said the boy, walking away with the empty birdcage.

Room for Christmas

My wife, Roberta Maran, and I live in a 620-square-foot house.  We love it.  In order to move in here, we had to sell or give away most of our possessions.  We hardly remember those former belongings.  We’ve enjoyed the lightness of living with less.

But then there is Christmas!  It’s a special challenge for us to prepare for it, since we have an enormous family and very little space to create handmade gifts, wrap packages and prepare holiday treats.  I’ve been struggling to get from one end of the house to the other without stepping on the projects in progress or on the paper, boxes, and completed gifts.

But this temporary clutter is a good metaphor for the spiritual question of Christmas.  Do we really have room in our lives for the limitless love that is known, among other names, as the Christ?

This question found its way into our house in the form of an empty box.  It was cleverly wrapped in paper from a Whole Foods grocery bag, with ribbon made from ripped strips of cloth.  It was made by our friend Molly DeVries, owner of Ambatalia Fabrics in Mill Valley.  Roberta was entranced as she was handed the box.  She said to Molly, “Your emptiness!  Thank you!”  Roberta was inspired to wrap empty boxes and name them with tags that indicated the precious but intangible gifts inside.

When I got home that day, she excitedly introduced me to the concept.  So we began making and wrapping empty boxes, and coming up with lines to put on the tags.  Our friend Leigh Markell came over and helped us.  Roberta made the gift cards in the style of her grandmother Cecilia, who used to glue a scrap of burlap onto the front of each one and adorn it with sisal cord and wooden beads in a unique pattern. That first week Roberta sold many of the boxes after worship at Sausalito Presbyterian, to raise funds for our church’s Action Against Hunger project that provides emergency food aid to people in famine-stricken areas of the world.

Here is a list of our tags, describing some of the priceless, pound-less gifts we can give and receive this season:

“This box contains:”

* Spare time
* The afterglow of 500 smiles
* A positive attitude
* Whatever you can imagine
* A ball of infinitesimally thin string which, if unrolled, will reach from you to the moon
* The egos of Jesus and Buddha
* All the nothing you ever wanted
* The laughter of 50 good jokes
* A scoop of wind from the top of Mt. Tamalpais
* A sigh of relief
* A groan of ecstasy
* A continuous round of applause for your accomplishments
* A secret memory
* A hint of your destiny
* The feeling Mother Teresa had when she served a destitute dying person in India
* An abandoned opinion 
* A bright idea
* An argument extinguisher – open in a relationship emergency and breathe the contents deeply
* A unique experience
* 200 UAU’s (universal adoration units)
* A “Wow, baby! You’re good!”
* It’s the little things….
* The knowledge that separation is only an illusion
* My emptiness which I give you, making room for you in my soul
* The memory of a baby’s touch
* A beginner’s mind
* Your creative spirit
* A hint of last night
* A new beginning
* The lightness you need to rise up to heavenly places
* A blend of: 25% kindness, 25% patience, 25% forgiveness, 20% hope, 5% brilliance – open in an emergency and breathe the contents deeply
* More oxygen and less CO2 – open after fulfilling your commitment to help end global warming
* Nothing that matters
* The silence between notes that makes music beautiful
* The sound of Buddha’s meditations
* The sound of Jesus resurrecting
* The weight of Jesus’ anger against his enemies
* What is left when I strip away all my illusions about who I am
* The essence of Rumi’s spiritual friend, Shams of Tabriz
* Enough oxygen to inflame your most precious passion
* The true meaning of Bob Dylan’s song lyrics
* The air from the horn of the big yellow taxi in Joni Mitchell’s song
* Nothing you can’t live without

May the emptiness of these boxes remind us to make space in our lives for the birth of the One who comes at Christmas, and at every other time when people share unconditional compassion with each other.