Response #38 The Cross

Mysterious Theologian: Chase Foreman

Suffering and Dying God, finally I pray to you after hours at the foot of your cross thinking about you and me… me and you… me and sin… you and death… me and death… you and love… me and love… me and you and other people plus death and sin and love and you again and… blah blah blah… It has felt, for me, like looking through a magnifying glass, then a microscope, then a stronger microscope, ever deeper into the grain of the wood of the cross, then the cells of the wood, and then deeper into each cell where I find a monastery filled with little monks that look like me writing prayers and arguing about various things. I’m sure you were there too, trying to teach me something, but you know, I was busy talking to my selfs. In any case, thanks for listening. Thanks for coming with me. And thanks for leading me here, to where you need me to be tonight. It is time for me to pray for someone other than me. Lord let me pray. Crucify and kill the many voices of me and let me pray. It is not for my own sake that I pray, but for yours and for the sake of your children. So, lord let me pray.

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Rebellious God, yours is a cross of suffering! And your final act is one of obedience! How can this be! This is not how you lived-out the love you were preaching about! What’s with this poisonous obedience! Where is it all coming from?! Have you forgotten yourself and who you are?!”

“Duh mom, I was in my father’s house, where’d you expect me to be…” “I’m sorry Jesus, what did you just say to me?!”

“Yeah, I’m healing this guy… Nope, doesn’t matter what words I use. Let me ask you this though… what’s gonna annoy you the most if I say it and then he is healed?… ‘Cuz that’s definitely what I’m gonna say.”

“Go ahead, throw some stones if you want… but first gentlemen, let’s not be hasty and haphazard about this. Let’s get organized… Okay, I got it… Whoever wants to get stoned next gets first toss!”

“Hey, who wants to go flip some tables in the temple?”

“Who do people say I am?” “Who do you say I am?” “I’m not gonna tell you who I am…”

“Yep, no problem Rabbuni, I’ve got it right here, let me read it back to you… Okay, here’s what I have so far: lunch with prostitutes, a sit down with a demoniac, then healing various romans and lepers, followed by an argument with some pharisees, and finally dinner with a tax collector and various other rapscallions… did I miss anything?”

You lived a life of rebellious and revolutionary love. And yet, the lasting image of your love-driven life is one that is easily twisted by us into a message of obsequiousness! Tonight I pray that you will suck out the poison that we have let creep up and soak into the grain of your cross and release those who, through their good and loving natures have been subjected to the vile natures of others and have been deceived into the chains of obeisance, abuse, and humiliated servitude. Break the bonds of your oppressed and abused children tonight. Teach them suffering for not a moment longer!

Amen!

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Response #31 Shower Scum

showerscum

Mysterious Theologian: Chase

Scummy God, I often wonder where you are, where you’ve been, and when you’re gonna get here and do something about all this! Today you have been revealed to me in shower scum, soap scum, and hard water residue. Thank you God, for being so sticky, grimy, and cruddy. I feel your presence in the cup from my first communion and in the Bibles I have collected over the years. I feel you stuck to me and my life through the pictures of friends and family that come, with their blessings and burdens, along with me from house, to apartment, to house, to… When I consider these things I am comforted and bemused, because everywhere I go there is scummy residue in the sinks, and everywhere I go you come too. Thank you God.

Amen.

Response #28 Slugs

The Slug Challenge

The Challengers: Paul Arensmeyer and Mayor Sandy Roumagoux

5-beer-slug-trap-alternative-uses-for-beer-things-beer-is-good-for-besides-drinking

Grimy God has been fun, so far, but its been woefully east-coast centric, I think. Out here in the west, our dirt may not be as dirty, and our smog might be fog, but God has shared gross and grimy gifts with us as well. So, while I’ve got the baton, I’d liketo celebrate God’s presence (presents) in the damp and moldy underworld of the Pacific Northwest. After consulting with kindred spirit Sandy Roumagoux, artist, Mayor of Newport, Oregon, and good old rabble-rousing Lutheran, we challenge Bishop Dave Brauer-Rieke to find God in an Oregon icon: the Slug. No, wait, we’re going straight for the “double dog dare” and challenging Dave to find God in the slug  in a beer trap.

The Slug Response

Mysterious Theologian: Bishop Dave Brauer-Rieke

“Shouldn’t someone say a prayer or something?”

“Move over, I can’t get any.”

“Hey, show some respect, will ya? I mean, she just down off the mountain. Died in 100% Full Sail Premium.”

“What a way to go!”

“This is the Feast, of victory for our God . . .”

“Can it, Carl!”

“You mean “Bottle it” don’t you?! Ha ha haaaaaaa.”

“No, really. She’s gone. Somebody should say a prayer.”

“Sally’s headed up the pot. She’ll say something.”

“Ahem. Dear God. We are gathered here today to remember our sister Gertrude. She just got down from skiing at Hoodoo and now she lays dead in a puddle of Full Sail …”

“Hey, did anybody notice that there are, like, 12 of us here? Sort of like the Last Supper or something!”

“Ooo, Ooo. Can I be Simon Peter?

“Shut it, Frank!”

“As I was saying. Dear God, you made us slugs which is sort of a one down position in the whole web of creation, food chain thing. That wasn’t cool. And we’re only mentioned in the Bible once, Psalm 58:8. Really, we dissolve into slug slime as we go along? That’s the best you could do?! At least somebody invented Snowboards for us because the whole skiing thing wasn’t working out too well otherwise. I mean, we’ve only got one foot. Again. That’s the best you could do? Everybody else got at least two, or four or something. And you wonder why we hang out at the pub so much.

But anyway. Gertrude went skiing today and now she’s gone. You could have told us we die in beer. Nobody else has that issue. Well, actually, a lot of people do. But still, it isn’t fair.”

“She looks so peaceful though, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Hey!!”

“So, God, we commit Gertrude to the deep. . .”

“Hops to hops, barley in batches.”

“Knock it off you guys!”

“So, we commit Gertrude into your loving care, O God. She was just a regular slug like the rest of us. We give thanks that she was doing what she loved right up until the end. We thank you that she had leaves to climb, and was never short of lichen, fungi and the occasional earthworm to eat. (And come to think of it, earthworms don’t have any feet at all, so …)

Also Lord, talking about body parts, being a hermaphrodite really isn’t as exciting as it sounds. It’s kind of hard to know what you were actually thinking when you made us.

But here we are, Lord – gathered at your table once again. Life goes on, and with you all things have their meat and meaning. We ask not why, but only when. Yes Lord, we ask not why, but only when.”

“Amen”

“Amen.”

“Amen, Amen . . . Amen.”

Bp. Dave Brauer-Rieke
Oregon Synod – ELCA

Response #25 Cat Litter Box

Mysterious Theologian: Evan Kingston, an author and a gentleman.

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God, I thank you for making my soul small, like a studio apartment; there’s never enough room to forget that you are in here with me. As much as I would like to ignore the ugliness of my life, as tempting as it is to pretend that stubbornness doesn’t daily calcify my heart full of heavy clumps, as easy as it feels to let those moments of waste stay hidden in a pile at the back corner of my soul, you never let me forget my obligations to you, myself, and my neighbors for too long. Just as a litter box in a cozy apartment gives off gentle reminders it needs tending—a smattering of tracked-out clay, the faint whiff of urine in a draft: disgusting, yes, but nowhere near as horrific as hidden hardness they hint at—I am constantly reminded of that hardheartedness in myself which I would rather forget. As small as my soul is, I find myself slightly annoyed when I’d ought to be grateful, or frustrated when I know I should be forgiving, and I am reminded of those deeper errors I keep hidden. If I did not feel cramped in here with you, Lord, I could let these ugly errors pile up until cleaning them felt impossible, until there was little left of the clay of my soul that didn’t feel hard and soiled, until I became so used to the disgusting stench I lived in it crept under the door and warned everyone away from my life. As it is, you remind me to confront myself daily, remind me that I can be fresh and free, remind me that I can let people in and share in your joy with them, as long as I do the tough work of shoveling through my soul for those clumps that need changing.

Amen

Remember dearest and grimiest reader, if you want to join the fun and respond to a challenge or submit a challenge you can! Here’s the challenging image Evan suggested:

mystery meat

Mystery Meat!

I’m lucky enough to work at a lovely grocery store with lots of great cuts of the finest meat. There’s a whole system for tracking where the animals were raised, what they were fed, and how they were treated. But when my wallet and belly are especially empty, I head across the street for a fast food lunch, where you can get a sandwich of twice the size for half the price. Seems like a great idea while I’m ordering, but I always feel extra grimy afterwards, as a bubbling in my gut forces me to ask: what was in that mysterious coldcut, and if it was once living, how was it treated, to make it so cheap?

Response #24 Vomit, Morning, Post Patty’s Day

Mysterious Theologian: Rev. Eric Hoffer
Let us pray. Gracious God, when we encounter the spoils of a whole city’s night of debauchery, do not let us dash our foot against the vomit. Do not let our furry companion have a breakfast of barf. Do not let us stumble on the slip and slide of sick. Instead, when we gaze upon the pukey mess, we are reminded of your abundance. Just like a party-goer drunk on green beer, you fill us with grace, forgiveness, and love until we can no longer contain it. Your abundance of goodness and mercy overflow out of us like a slurry of Guinness and colcannon. Unlike the vomit of last night, let your abundance, Lord, bless the sidewalks, our communities, and our world. And so, we give thanks for St. Patrick, in whom we imbue beloved folklore, compelling myth, and an excuse to binge drink, for faithfully proclaiming to us the fullness of your love for us and for the world—it can never be contained—even when it gets messy sometimes. AMEN.
 
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My challenge to Evan: After a long, hard day at work, my cat is always there to welcome me home with a cuddly face…and a box full of poop. The litter box is a curious thing–we literally keep a container of feces in our home, and then we squat over it, our faces dangerously close to, well, everything, and clean it. Only to do it all over again soon. Ugh.

Response #16 Pinkeye

Mysterious Theologian: Ben

WebMD tells me that “Poor hand-washing is the main cause of the spread of pinkeye. Sharing an object, such as a washcloth or towel, with a person who has pinkeye can spread the infection.” Therefore…

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Transcendent Pinkeye, you do not despise the infected and frail,  you gladly give the apple of your eye with the sick and share it with the healthy.  Our heads and tails are united together through you.  Swell shut our eyes which judge the world by external appearance, and lead us to reach out with searching hands, so that all we touch might spread your presence. Amen.

CHALLENGE: We are branching out and inviting others to support us in our Lenten practice! So instead of challenging Chase, today I am challenge Pastor Amy Kienzle of St. John’s and Lutheran Church of the Messiah in Brooklyn, NY to see God in that most disgusting denizen of NYC…BED BUGS!

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Response #15 Used Gum

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God be in my heart and in my hands and in my mouth. Freshen my breath with the words that embody your will, your way, and your hope. Let me speak communion and reconciliation to my brothers and sisters. Do not let me drown you out, but speak through my breath and spit and lips. And when I go to share you with others send your spirit to remind me to give them their own stick of you to chew on, not mine. So that they may come to know you not through my breath and spit and lips, but through their own.

Amen.

Hey people, Chase here, used gum seemed like a really rich and disgusting image to me. If you are inspired by some aspect of it and want to create and share a prayer go ahead! Post it in the comments!

Response #14 Allergies

Mysterious Theologian: Ben

According to Wikipedia, “An allergy is a hypersensitivity disorder of the immune system. Allergic reactions occur when a person’s immune system reacts to normally harmless substances in the environment. A substance that causes a reaction is called an allergen. These reactions are acquired, predictable, and rapid.”  Therefore…

Allergy

Oh All-Knowing Allergy, all the world is filled with your wonder.  Bless me with your hypersensitivity, that I might react with passion to the humblest of your creations.  When lost in thought, I wander past a hillside in bloom, bring tears to my eyes.  When I ignore the playfulness of kittens, raise up my skin in hives to praise you with rosy color. When trees make love and shower the earth with their pollen, and I but think of my chores, trumpet forth from my nose and mouth, that, surrounded by the sylvan circle of life, all the world might say to me, “God bless you.”  Amen

CHALLENGE:  Alright, I’m going to start including the challenges with the prayers.  So Chase, your next challenge is:  Used Gum!

Response #13 Nails on a Chalkboard

Ahh! Ben! Why?!

Prayer of Grating Anguish

God, I’ve been praying for deliverance so much recently. Everything screams out at me. I can’t escape the shrill tone of suffering that haunts your creation. My twitter feed updates me on very clear suffering around the world. The news rolls me around in the details of every possible tragedy. You gave me a heart and a brain so I know that there is even more beyond what I can hear. Jimi Hendrix didn’t save us from the sound of nails on a chalkboard and Jesus didn’t save us from our suffering. There’s things I can hear, but I can’t change. And God help me! The things I can’t hear I don’t stand a chance of changing. But God, you see them, you change them. You ask too much of me. You’re on notice God, your deliverance is incomplete.

Amen

Response #12 Dead Worms

Mysterious Theologian: Ben

The first thing to know about dead worms on your sidewalk, is that the reason they show up after a rain, is that they are traveling.  According to Dr. Chris Lowe, Lecturer in Waste and Environmental Management, University of Central Lancashire in Preston, United Kingdom, because worms need to be wet in order to breath, they usually have to stay in moist soil and can’t travel above ground. However, when the ground is wet due to rain, Dr. Lowe explains “It gives them an opportunity to move greater distances across the soil surface than they could do through soil.”  When the rain stops and the ground dries up, they would normally burrow, but of course, if there is concrete in the way, they can’t.

Worm Cross

Oh Dying Earthworm, you dwelt among your people in the barren soil of injustice, and when the Rain of God drew near, you broke free from the dry dust and crawled upon the surface toward a promised land flowing with the moisture and nutrients of peace.  But when you reached the hardness of the concrete human heart, you found neither traction nor entrance into the soft soil of my soul.  And so you were left to die, drying on the sidewalk.  And yet, from the earth, a thousand more worms will rise, trusting in the promise that you have seen. Give me their faith, that my life also may be devoted to following the Reign of God. Amen.